It’s not often, is it?

by maddrunkgenius

“What?” I said, not really listening but knowing he probably hadn’t said anything until now. He tends to have half a conversation in his head before he bothers to invite me into it.

“That we get to see something like this, I mean,” he explained without really explaining anything. I looked out the windshield where he was looking then back at him again.

“You mean the clouds?” I asked.

“No. Well, sort of.” His eyebrows bunched up together and he started drumming his fingers on the wheel, “I mean, you see the clouds there, don’t you? The dark ones to the side raining and all that.”

“Yes. It looks like a thunderstorm is heading our way. So?” We live in the desert, but we see our share of thunderstorms.

“But look over there, to your left.” I did. “The sun is setting right there and the entire side of the world is illuminated.”

“Wow… that’s amazing.”

I’d tried to sound enthusiastic, but it wasn’t quite enthusiastic enough for him.

“You get a moment of beauty and metaphorical significance, and you can’t even recognize it or appreciate it,” he complained, “You’re hopeless!”

“I guess I don’t share your ability to elevate the mundane into the divine. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you are.”

I rolled my eyes but didn’t feel like getting into it. After a few minutes I told him to stop at the next town so I could get a drink. I wasn’t that thirsty, but I felt like I needed one.