SURFING SOAPBOX:Peace in Bluebird Canyon

He’s there every morning, hooking his way through the sky, singing his morning song in a high-pitched tone that has become my morning alarm clock.

I get up in the cold and look out my bedroom window; there, the red-tailed hawk soars every morning like clockwork.

Bluebird Canyon must be the most peaceful place I have yet lived. The city bus passes my house every hour reminding me of the old days when my Mom and I use to ride it together.

I like it here. It feels like Laguna. People are always out and walking around. Kids are skateboarding. Neighbors stop by just to say “hi.”

I get the sense that perhaps the June 1landslide of 2005 brought this neighborhood and wonderful section of Laguna even closer than it already was — and now living here just seems like the most special place on earth.

Looking outside my house, I am surrounded by trees and wildlife. The coyotes were in rare form last night, beginning their primal chants at around 6:30 p.m. Writing comes easy, as inspiration lies in every direction I look.

I remember meeting the late, great author Theodore Taylor at his home, which, too, was among the green trees of life. He said to me that day, “find your home and your writing will write itself,” and I think he was right.

From that time on, Theodore and I would see each other in passing from time to time, and his first question would always be, “How’s your writing?”

He seemed to honestly care, and for an author of his stature it meant the world to me. It inspired me to keep writing and find that inner voice of passion, where my words flow gracefully enough to impress him — because I know he’s up there still writing.

Thanks for caring, Mr. Taylor.

Peace.