I have seen Van Gogh’s Sunflowers right up close, and the paint is so think and lush and wonderful you want to lick it. I have seen Monet’s water lilies in exactly the same way, close enough to touch. I have seen Rembrandt’s and Pollock’s, and they are dazzling and spectacular. I’ve stood on the beach and looked at the deep swelling gray of the Pacific Ocean in the morning light, endlessly in motion and gorgeous. I’ve seen diamonds the size of bird’s eggs, and been in the presence of the Crown Jewels. I’ve seen London by starlight, Chicago sparkling after a hard rain, and San Francisco at dawn, and those are the exact right moments to be in those places. I was there when my niece was a newborn, tiny and perfect and beautifully fresh. I have hiked the Rockies on striking blue summer mornings and seen views from those mountain tops that make me feel, to this day, the touch of God.
And then, today, I am reminded once again of the single most beautiful thing I have ever seen, and it’s none of those things. It quite literally took my breath away, and my heart is still racing, and I am so, so scared that that will never change.