Hope in the rays

Posted on January 27, 2008

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Don’t tell me I look pretty in this sweater. Being pretty is just one more thing people want from other human beings on this planet. Most don’t ask, they simply take.

As angry as I was leaving the house I was surprised to find that the morning was still silent. The noise of the words and swirling frustration in my head was only internal; it didn’t touch the January morning. At the gas station it was completely quiet. I watched the breath tumble out of my mouth and onto the pavement that used to be a dark grey but now is almost pure white because of the salt we use to remove the snow. The silence swallowed me and the sunlight flung itself across the street at me. The sunlight was perfect and beautiful, and it gave me the hope it stores inside the rib cage of the sky.

Why is it always the sunlight that saves me on mornings like these?

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