Heading East
I’ve never seen that color red before. It exists only on the pallet of the Great Artist God when he paints the sunsets. It exploded across the sky like beams of fiery light, a red so intense and deep that no camera or painter could capture or remake it. It drew out a profound purple in the waves of clouds, and it was like the sun was catching all the right edges of the clouds to create a sunset that took over the whole sky. I watched it all unfold before me like a show from heaven. The only problem was that I was getting a crick in my neck from being turned around in the back seat of the car. This kind of sunset you can’t watch in the rear view mirror; you’ve gotta turn around and stare at it. “Too bad we aren’t driving into that sunset,” my mom exclaimed, and I was hit with a pang of desire. It didn’t feel right to be driving away from it. It felt like leaving something beautiful behind us, kind of like how I feel right now as I write this on an airplane and watch ...