"For we are all so mortal that we hardly live."
-Czesław Miłosz

[i'm a second chance person in a one-shot world]

someday we will be finished with everything that is required of us and all we will have left to do will be to explore hidden lakes and pick bouquets of wildflowers and climb trees and catch frogs and make shapes of the clouds. and we will lie on the meadow in the valley of the mountains, you with your old typewriter and me with my paintbrushes and we will make something of our lives. and i will chase those pages that the wind tries to take for itself and catch your words and maybe some butterflies too. and i will bring you skirtfuls of wild berries still warm from the sun. our music will be birdsong and crickets, the gentle rhythm of falling leaves. we will know clean air and deep silence and the curve of the mountain slopes and the songs of howling wolves. it will be our second chance, and we will finally know what it means to be immortal and be free.

[happiness]

the sweet smell of the honeysuckle and the whirring sound of the hummingbirds that visit it. that particular shock of red against the jet black wing of the blackbirds that guard their nests in the cattails by the pond. the chirping of baby birds nesting in the walls of the house and the bats that dive out of the chimney at dusk. the shadows the clouds cast on the wheat field. the deep drumming of the bullfrogs. the perfect arch a swallow's wings make and the swoop of its flight. the grass soft underfoot. the bike rides that take in the rolling hills, the sudden flush of crimson on the fields of blooming clover, the cows and horses, the alpacas and goats... the orchards and the wetlands, the pure cloud-like mass of white when the cherry trees are in bloom and the persistent, cumulative hum of the imbibing honeybees. the cooing of the mourning doves. my shadow, and the neighbor's dogs who come to keep us company, who come to run and play and swim, who have the run of the place and are the happiest dogs i've ever seen. the rich, verdant small of the greenhouses. the howling of the coyotes at night, sometimes far off, sometimes right in the garden. the peace of being the only one here. that little whinny a baby horse makes and how silky soft its coat is. the river. the gentle dawns and fiery sunsets. and more than anything the freeing feeling of not having to be anywhere else, or anyone you're not. defining your own worth. living day to day, moment by moment, the simple life.

when i lived in hawaii, i loved to look out the window onto that little slice of ocean, at a particular time of day when the sun shimmered over the moving water, because it just glittered in a way that was truly beautiful, in a way that's hard to describe. now, here, i have a view of a field that's sometimes wheat and sometimes clover and occasionally oats, and when the sun is shining and there's a good breeze blowing, each green blade bows and bends, rippling like a body of water, and it sparkles in the exact same way.

there, my favorite color was blue - how could it not be? here, i'm in love with green. i couldn't even begin to count how many different shades and tones of green i can see out of one of these windows, it's an incredible thing.

spring wouldn't be spring if it didn't follow winter. everywhere you look, you see new growth, new life, and you can't help but wonder where it all comes from, all at once like this. you see all of it every day, and you can't help but want to live well, breathe deeply. life is simply and supremely good.