The waning sun
hangs patiently in twilight’s last hour, casting a golden orange slow-glow on
her bedroom wall.
To
most eyes and ears, it has been an ordinary day – full of nothings and no
matters. To her, it was a celebratory
day. Perfect. Memorable.
A string of small moments seared into her mind.
Would
others have noticed what she had? No. It is unlikely. But she, as a young soul and self-proclaimed
writer, noticed more than most. You see,
that’s what writers and young people are supposed to do – they notice the small
details in life that others do not. What
others might take for granted. The small
details that most completely miss
because their feet move too quickly and their eyes and ears are simply, yet
mournfully, closed.
She
lays in that golden orange slow-glow of twilight and remembers…
Hearing
her Mama’s laughter in the morning – from the porch…loud,
and with the
occasional….snort. Laughter that makes
you want to laugh out loud too, even if you missed what was just…so…funny.
Scooping
up that ugly rock by the creek’s edge – now resting lovingly amongst her most
highly-regarded treasures on her bureau.
A rock, her expert stone-seeking brother would have skipped right
past. But no, it deserved
attention. It had personality, like
she. It told a story.
There
was the vanilla scent caught, of a neighbor-lady strolling by, that flashed
memories of her Nana, long gone, but always taking up a whole huge and gigantic
part of the young girl’s heart.
A
smile-to-yourself-moment, a surprising discovery actually, of a never-ever
before seen guest to the birdhouse. A
smallish, brownish grayish mouse – its feet grasping a slender branch, a twig
really. Its tiny paws perched oh, so, daintily on the ledge, enjoying the seeds
and sunshine, thankful to its feathered friends for a few moments of space and
peace.
And
lastly, yummily, there was the still lingering taste, the unforgettable taste,
of “breakfast for dinner” – peanut butter banana chocolate chip pancakes –
Daddy’s specialty, cooked just for her and only for her.
As
twilight’s golden orange slow-glow has all but faded, the girl sends a wondering,
a message really, into the darkening sky for all the children of the world to
breathe in…for all those who are listening, really listening….
What
will you notice this day and the
next?
Sweet
dreams, wonderful world.
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