S U N S H I N E
Dripping on an open field
Lighter than milk;
sweeter than honey.
My middle school playground has always held a special place in my heart. I still remember early mornings, watching the ghostly fog swallow the outskirts of our field, then running out to greet cracked concrete, then green grass, then wildflower.
On one particularly sunny day, we peered through wired fence to find a deer staring straight at us from the shady forest grounds. Eyes wide and piercing, it blinked and pranced out of sight. Magic – or so they tell me. I was actually late that day and missed the whole shebang, but I like to pretend I was there.
Although nothing can replace the tiny world I found in this field of grass, I try my best every day to maintain a childlike sense of wonder. Like watching maple leaves twirl through Autumn breezes to reach Earth and dust. Or revelling in the scent of clean sheets, buttered popcorn and the squish of wet grass beneath my toes.
Like they say, it’s the little things in life that matter the most.