Violet and pink clouds blush across the horizon, a spill of sweetness beneath the heavy gray expanse. Darkness draws over us like some giant curtain. Like floating the blankets over your body before bed- when you giggle and shriek as the comforter descends, all billowy and frantic. I wonder if you'll keep those feelings nearby as you grow older?
Do we?
You're with some new friends on the hill. Just shapes now. Shadow arms and legs punched out against a fading snowy canvas. It's all muted and understated and wonderful in its simplicity. There's nothing really unique about this time. Nothing spectacular, except that it all is. All of this. The bed-making. The sledding. The pleasure you draw from life, inhaling the world. You would gulp it if you could- that air of childhood, that slow burn of awakening.
And sometimes I wonder if this is it. If this was the plan. To be here and to be happy with it. To find goodness and cultivate it. Maybe this is what would be leftover if we forgot why we are so anxious or mad and distracted all the time.
I don't know if we are wise enough, or have enough grace or strength to choose well. But I wonder, what would happen, if we forgot for a while. If the people forgot their guns and rivalries and the kings forgot their crowns. What if the media forgot the ads and stakeholders and what if we forgot our resentment or our posturing.
Maybe this is what would remain. Shapes in the sunset, chasing daylight for the last drops of sweetness. Walking in the dusk and laughing like children do, paying no mind to the darkness. Fearless like children are in the open air.