But that didn’t matter, because to me, nothing existed outside of Heaven. So small, in fact, that I figured no one outside of Heaven even knew we existed.
It breathed its own life and existed like it had been there since the beginning of time. And the smell- that fresh, robust smell of wheat stalks and lilacs wafted through the air easily like a calm fog.Įverything sang together harmoniously like it always did. Bright rays of sunlight shone down on my face, warming my cheeks like a kiss from a lover. Wind blew through the tall stalks of grass, brushing them as easily as a musician runs their fingers over piano keys. The afternoon sky was that pure, crisp blue that only seemed to exist in forgotten places or books with Happily Ever Afters. You’re those hours of silence that pull themselves longer and longer until there’s nothing left of them but a faint memory of a Once Upon a Time.īut don’t worry- I won’t forget you like you’ve forgotten me.Īs I walked through the tall fields of grass and weeds that surrounded me, I stared up into the clouds and daydreamed about Heaven. You’re what I reach out for, but just can’t seem to touch. You’re those frozen moments that everyone forgets to breathe during. You? You’re all those special times in between. Or the times when the wind blows freely through the long stalks of grass and cattails, and twirls around the fields like it’s thinking of starting a hurricane. Or the times when the summer lakes start allowing the gentle ease of coolness on top of their waters. Those are the times that take the crisp arc of winter and let it dance with the fresh grass of the spring. It brings big storm clouds to drown out the sunlight, and so many shades of green, I couldn’t hope to count them in my lifetime if I started now and never did a single other thing.Īnd then there are those times in between. Life isn’t a big enough word for summer because summer brings everything with it when it comes. The air becomes cold, and just for a few magical moments, you can puff out a lung full of air and see the icy color of your own breath.
Winter brings the crystals of frost to the blades of grass that are just beginning to change color. Or all the tiny mixtures of seasons in between. I’ve always wondered why no one talks about the beauty in winter. Colors so vivid, they make the world look dull in comparison to their oversaturation. Arrays of oranges, yellows, and reds float from the branches and flutter down into their bouquets on the ground. People talk about how beautiful trees are in autumn.
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