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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/627033
Rated: E · Prose · How-To/Advice · #627033
a colorful twist of looking back on what one could have done
Once, when I was very young, I saw the world through a crystal ball.
It was beautiful, and I gazed at its radiance.
Softly glowing, it beckoned to me to come and see its wonders, and to tell everyone that I had seen the world.
I never saw the whole world. All I saw was that crystal ball when the clouds drew apart for my eyes.
But I caught a glimpse of it. I caught a glimpse of magic.

Some time ago, I was walking down the sidewalk, and I decided I’d lie down for a while.
After all, the sun was smiling at me, and the air was whispering in my ears.
I took one look at the busy street on my left and cartwheeled down the grassy hill opposite.
I didn’t make it all the way down.
But that’s okay, because my gentle giggling cushioned my fall.
And I lay there, so the sun could laugh at my awkward pose. After all, I didn’t want to hog all the laughter.
And Nature invited me for a talk.
Who would turn down a chat with Nature?
So we chatted.
It’s not so often I talk to Nature anymore.
But I talked to Nature once. That’s more than most can say.

When I was little, I wanted to be an astronaut.
My mommy always told me to reach for the sky.
Lately I’ve been having some trouble, and I figured I could use some advice, no matter how old I am.
So I walked outside, and I reached for the sky. And I touched it.
It was sweet and rich and comforting, and the whites and blues danced around my fingertips in a festive embrace.
It shocked me, and I drew back my hands in surprise.
After realizing what I had done, I reached up again with all my might. I closed my eyes and stood on my tiptoes, stretching my fingers till my palms were red and white.
But I couldn’t touch it again. The sky had eluded me.
Still, I touched the sky. I guess that qualifies as extraordinary.

Often times, you’re given a chance, and you don’t realize how spectacular that chance is.
I’ve run my course and been given many chances, always afraid of the maybes and the whatifs.
But when you get a chance to meet the spectacular, meet it, and let the maybes and whatifs discuss themselves.
So tell me what it’s like, next time, when you touch the sky. Tell me what it’s like when you touch the sky, grab hold, and never let go.
© Copyright 2003 The Dead Man in YossariansTent (rageoftyphon at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/627033