This appeared in the most recent issues of First Words
Biltmore Starbucks Is this the perfect day?
What I can see of the sky from this porch is perfect. But who says beautiful blue and not a single cloud is the standard? The guy standing knee-deep in the surf trying to catch a fish would look to his left at 6:27 AM and whisper to no one in particular, “perfect sky.” Because the sun knows how to paint clouds and how to escort perfection into a new memory that can never be duplicated.
This is the perfect day because the breeze from the porch reminds me that it really didn’t matter that the fish weren’t biting. Just like it doesn’t matter that this outdoor café is filled with sounds I didn’t ask for. Coffee drinks inspire business plans at the table behind me; trumpet jazz floats just over my head from black speakers; trolley breaks squeal as the guide informs the curious about America’s largest home. The perfect day.
It’s the day I wake up to the voice of God, quiet enough to be heard over the crashing waves.
Keith Turman, December 7, 2011