That single mellifluous crack in space when the earth halts in mid-revolution when the chaotic song of the city transforms into silent symphonies, is serenity. A single teardrop that crashes on the concrete, causing a pearl necklace to shatter into thunderous pitter patter, is simplicity. That wrinkle in time when the wind whispers melodies into trees’ ears when the trees blush sunset pink blossoms, is hope.
The first bud of many hopes waiting to bloom is not spring. It is a new start. It is the potent aroma of flowers. It is taking a step back and looking at the rose-colored confetti. It is a renaissance.
The robotic voice you make in front of the fan is not summer. It is eating the smiles from watermelon slices. It is running after the ice cream truck. It is taking your first dive into the vast blue abyss. It is absorbing more UV rays than usual. It is friendship.
The vibrant red and orange ballerinas dancing in the air are not autumn. It is falling into a pile of lost adolescent treasure. It is wrapping scarves around one another. It is taking a step back and witnessing the billions of hues that the trees create. It is the disbelief that you didn’t look before. It is taking a deep breath and saying, “Wow…” It is the cracked pieces of leaves that create mosaics on the sidewalk. It is bewilderment.
The frosty air biting at the nape of your neck is not winter, but the wonderland into which you fall backward. It is the white clay you mold into a man. It is the shooting stars which kiss your flaming red cheeks. It the mustache left by the hot chocolate you drink while still wearing gloves. It is the frozen moment you stand in awe and gawked at the chimera before you. It is imagination.
An unwavering companion by your side is not a shadow, but your own self-confidence cheering you on every hesitant step. A light-hearted swirl around your ankles is not the rustle of the leaves; it is a memento from your neglected childhood dreams. The speckled mist is not a fountain, it is a well full of penny wishes yet to come true. A great star cloaked behind pink clouds is not the sunset, but a canvas painted with blinding light and bubble gum cotton candy.
This is life. Take a deep breath and come alive. This is it.
