Belport saw more rain than sun throughout the year, and summer was thunderstorm season, at that. Every so often, though, we got a break in the storm for the sun to show up at sunset, reflecting orange, yellow, red, and pink off the cloud bottoms. It had been the perfect summer grilling weather.
I, however, was not the grillmaster. Logan Gershman had that honor.
I had gone over to the Gershmans on invitation. The food was free, but I had paid five bucks for unlimited refills of Brian’s and Tommy’s lemonade stand.
Other neighbors had joined in the party. Andrea Gershman was making her rounds to them and to see that the food table was adequately stocked with all manner of condiments and side dishes.
I just stood off to the side sipping lemonade and watching the sunset. The city got in the way of our view of the bay, where the sunset must be spectacular coming off the water, but this was great, too. A nice moment of reflection and peace.
“I never get tired of these,” Brian said, coming up beside me with his pitcher.
Growing up, the first time, I mean, Germany was mostly wet and cold and sky-choking forests. We never got an unobstructed view of the sun and clouds like this, really.”
It’s easy to forget the ‘kid’ has seen thousands of lifetimes.
“What’s the best sunset?”
“In all my lifetimes, the one that stands out across time?”
“This one. It’s always this one. It’s too much to hold onto things across lifetimes, especially unimportant details like this. You can’t live life like a camera, trying to record everything. What makes a sunset special is not the visual, it’s the people. I’ve got a sunset with family and neighbors during a good time. That’s what I remember, not the specific shades of light in the sky.”
“Kind of zen, maybe a little cynical, too.”
“Maybe, but when a universal truth comes at you, it’s going to sound that way.”
“Pour me another and just enjoy the sunset, will ya?”