The sun fell low in the late afternoon, yet its beams still pierced
brightly through the trees, accentuating the vibrant greens of
summer. The leaves danced happily in the steady, cool breeze, but
sounds seemed miles away. Quietly the breeze traveled, masked by
the birds, crickets, and other animals of a southern summer.
The wind was a welcomed relief from the searing heat that had melted the countryside. The breeze felt so nice. The songs seemed so relieved. The sky was so blue. This was a day Sean would remember when the winters came, and the days shortened into nights. This was the freedom Sean would recall when, one day, he would sit back in his chair, waiting for something to happen, telling yet another story of the way things used to be. This would be a day that would bleed into all the others, and would eventually become the perfect day.
But even now, in his youth, Sean perceived it as already being the perfect day. Perched out in his suburban yard, Sean knew this was the perfect sight for his soul. He wouldn't trade anything for this hot day in the South, with its barking dogs, crying birds, and cool wind.
The day reminded him of days he spent as a child, playing in the park, or running with the cows. And as he heard the children, far away, yelling with a dog, he remembered the excitement of youth.
He remembered days when there was so much to do, and so little to do it with. He was young, and the world was so new to him. Joy was found around every corner and under every rock. Not a minute passed that he wasn't happy and fulfilled. There was always something to do, and, as all children, he never stopped to wonder what he had done; he simply continued doing.
And as the shadows began to grow longer, he recalled those seemingly lost days, playing with his childhood friends, and sleuthing around the neighborhood.
He and his brother had tried several business ventures, but always found that rocks sold out of their greenhouse just wasn't profitable.
But they still tried...and they still had fun.
They built clubhouses out of things setting around the yard. Most of them were shabby little attempts, but a couple he remembered as being quite an engineering feat at the time. They had all the luxuries one could ask for...they were exactly like his playroom.
He and his brother had done so many things. Sitting on the edge of a creek and competing to see who could spot the largest carp!
How absurd the game sounds now.
But they had fun.
There were days in the park; he remembered days in the park. Life was so exciting way back then. Living in a tiny southern city, the days were exactly like the one Sean was experiencing now. Or at least that's how he remembered them.
Every day in that small town was warm, and the wind was always steadily rustling the tall grass. The lakes were always bright blue, reflecting the distant hills, and shimmering from the breeze. The birds were always singing, and, as far as he could remember, everything was always perfect.
Because they had fun.
But it must have rained. There must have been days that were dreary and uneventful. Nothing, after all, is perfect.
But since his life had been so simple, and enjoyment was so complete, Sean's memory was dominated by the good times. And now, now that he had gotten older and "matured" the way everyone expected him to, he recalled recent times of mostly trouble and boredom. He could catch fleeting glimpses of recent excitement, but, he had to confess, they were times he was acting more "immature."
It seemed difficult at times to remember to notice that the day was beautiful. Most of the time Sean was simply too busy to see the sunset streak across a golden sky. He didn't hear the low drone of the crickets. He simply didn't see the beauty.
It was still there, though. He would sometimes stop long enough to watch a young mother with her two small children, and he would see their excitement...their naivete. He envied them, he really envied them. While he was pushing through the sham and drudgery of the world, they were seeing all the sunsets and feeling all the breezes. They were granted the perfect days that they would never forget; the days that would shape them into happy people surrounded by the beauty in the world.
But then he was also extremely saddened by the sight. Because he knew, he had seen, what was going to happen to them.
No matter how happy they were now, it was not going to last. Someday, they were probably not going to see the beauty anymore, either.
Someday the children would become teenagers, and everyone's life would change as they rebelled against the beauty.
Someday a family member would die, and joy would be the hardest thought for any of them to find.
Someday a pointless argument would escalate into a dispute that would end in hatred.
Someday everything would be different.
And Sean's eyes watered at the thought.
And as Sean bowed his head and wiped his eyes, he rose to retreat from the pain. The thoughts of total happiness brought so much pain. The beauty was no longer simple.
The beauty was different.
And as the sun dipped below the horizon and bright, majestic stars began to greet the dark world, the locusts and catydids resumed the song left behind by the sleeping crickets, and the wind...the wind continued to cool another perpetual southern summer.
(c) 1994 Me
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