I filled my lungs to capacity, breathing in the air that hinted of clover and pine. There are some days that inhaling deeply of something refreshing feels like taking in life itself.
There’s a magic in it that can take you from an emotional pit to someplace wonderful, and even on an already good day to somewhere transcendent.
As I stared up at the sky I remembered the one and only time as a boy I’d flown a kite. I wasn’t able to keep it up for very long in the unpredictable wind, but for a brief minute it danced in the current with a beauty I couldn’t appreciate then. Looking back on it now it strikes me as a caricature of sorts of a playful being holding defiant against gravity and convention but without any malice. In a way I suppose it embodies the playfulness of childhood — joy without pretense.
As I slowly exhaled I realized I’d been holding my breath. Maybe I was afraid to let that beauty free, but it lingered. Here, in this moment, nothing could touch me. It was a good day to be alive.