Looking back, you’ll want to be able to say that you walked in all kinds of weather.
You’ll want to know that you caught the branches in the midst of their greening. You’ll want to remember how they wore the droplets with casual elegance, like Jackie O. in her pearls.
Perhaps you were weary, but so were the newborn daffodils. You felt comforted watching them droop their radiant heads.
Much of the world was covered in gray, but you found the cracks and the crevices. How easy it was to delight you! Any spark of green would do.
You had boots and you used them.
Any penny seemed lucky to you.
You took refuge when you wanted it, but never for long.
When given a choice between earth and cement, you opted for earth.
You kept your date with the ocean when others stayed home.
The surf serenaded you, and the halyards clattered against the flagpoles with jubilant arrhythmia.
Debris enticed you no less than the sugar sand of summer.
Indeed, you came upon pictures pretty enough to frame, pictures that would wash away before anyone else spied them.
You grew as wise and as wet as any common bird.
How satisfied you were, satisfied enough to take your own picture.
At home you put off the tidying you’d planned.
You boiled water for tea.
You shut down your e-mail and your calendar and your to-do lists. None of your dry, logical tasks seemed essential anymore. Take note of that. You had so many things piled up, but you nudged them aside and started something new.