parachutes and dreams

May 15, 2008

The school where I work is only about four miles from the heart of the city, but it takes thirty minutes to get to Granadino by bus.  We wind down the mountain, stop for construction, and the occassional mudslide and make it to the campus just the same.  My favorite part of the drive is the last half mile or so.  The road runs adjacent to a big open pasture on one side and a monestary on the other.  It’s a short settling stretch for me and I catch myself taking a deep breath and whispering a prayer in those last five minutes of the commute.

Yesterday as we drove in, I noticed a flash of pink dancing in the sky.  It looked somehow familiar, like a scene from a movie or a piece of a dream.  I watched in childlike awe as the pink parachute floated toward the emarald pasture.  The man touched the earth and took two running steps to absorb the momentum of his fall, then grinning broadly, he raised his hand and waved at me as if to say, “It wasn’t a dream at all.”

Posted in Uncategorized