Thirty-three years ago today I was living in Santa Cruz, California, and endured the devastation of the Loma Prieta earthquake and—ironically or symbolically—the end of a long term relationship on that same day. It sucked. People died and hearts hurt and I was lost and struggling as a still unpublished writer.
Today I experienced the inspiring nature of beauty along the Blue Ridge Parkway in North Carolina with Harriet, my partner of twenty-nine years, marveling at vistas and savoring a walk along a mountain lake on a perfect autumn day and having cobbled together the life of a writer.
Time may be a goon, but its passing can be just what we need.