Passing Fancy
Earlier this evening while driving I recalled another drive of several years ago, southbound on NW 21st Ave., headed toward Burnside in Portland. Another driver approached in the opposite lane, a woman in a newer model compact car, probably imported. As we drove past one another we locked eyes and both smiled. I can still see her face, perfectly framed by rich brown hair worn up, her red jacket, the joy and openness in her expression. She was, in that moment, the most beautiful woman in the world.