This Morning

This+Morning

I wanted to see the sunrise over break.

I woke up at 7 so I had already missed it, but it was Sunday. 

Sunday was the last day.

I felt an urge to go outside as I was heading down the stairs. I was not fully awake. 

All I did was hear the door opening and closing. 

 

The air was damp and refreshing on my face, and the grass glittered like jewels. Birdsong filled the air, and I could hardly tell where it came from.

I hadn’t been outside in a long, long time.

There’s a small grass path a little bit from my house. It lines the side of a small pond so shallow the water couldn’t be seen, and filled to the brim with pampas grass. 

I walked alongside this “pond”, to my left tall trees, to my right fluffy grass. The wind rustled the leaves and seeds, and birds of all different colors and sizes whizzed out of the greenery, their wings creating different fluttering sounds. 

A gap in the trees allowed small rays of light to stream onto the path. It was a bright golden walkway.

I curved to the right, and the sun was taller than the trees now. The tall willow tree glowed with vitality, its greening arms catching the sun with trembling hands. 

I loved the strange sweet smell of pollen. I loved the contrasting birdsong in the air. I loved the rustling of the leaves. I loved the sun.

 

I see.

So Spring had come while I was gone.