Things as they are
You're sitting on a lush, green hillside. Rays of sunlight break through the clouds and the strong scent of the ocean clings to the breeze like a memory. A crisp chill in the air reminds you that the bright & carefree days of Summer are gone. Yet there is beauty in the striking images of Autumn: happy children fill school playgrounds with laughter while crimson, yellow & fiery-orange leaves cascade leisurely to the ground. Things are in a state of change; it is nature's brilliant prelude to the cold & blustery, as we descend into the depths of Winter. Still, some things stay the same. The salty water ebbs and flows in rhythm with time as the hours glide by effortlessly. Gusts of wind playfully flirt with your hair. You sit, taking it all in. And you feel everything.
This is where the chapter ends. It may not make sense but I want to remember that scene in my mind. It was a beautiful day.
It may not be today, tomorrow or even next week, but I hope to start from the beginning and tell this story as I know it best.
We do not write in order to be understood; we write in order to understand.- Cecil Day Lewis The cathartic nature of writing brings things into view for me in a way that no other thing or person can. And so, the story should be told.
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