99 New: Sightseeing

In the last hour of my flight home, the setting sun shone on the wing of the plane in that rich, surreal vividness that you sometimes see unexpectedly walking out your front door at twilight. The wing’s edge had become studded with grand rubies, each more brilliant than the last. I considered taking a picture but decided to watch instead, betting that the gloaming, if that’s what it could be called, wouldn’t last long and it didn’t.

It reminded me of the time we saw a wolf trotting alongside a highway in the dark. In disbelief at seeing such a wild creature along a busy road, we pulled over to watch him. He trotted along some more, sauntered actually, uncaring and unconcerned about his audience. And then he turned to look at us looking at him. We thought of taking a picture then, too, but we didn’t because his look was fleeting, just seconds long, and then he dashed into the trees and the night.

Photos wouldn’t have done either of these events justice. Both would seem smaller and less remarkable than they were. So I am glad for my judgment to witness and not record.