a very very short story, if you can call it that. i call it my trying to describe a very nice evening i wittnessed one winter/spring day


uncomparable evening

it was an evening uncomparable to the rest. i hadnt seen one similar to it since the long warm summer nights of my childhood. the ones where i'd sit on the road for hours, carefree. drawing pictures on the rough surface aand as the golden afternoon would blend from orange to pink to purple the stick of chalk would shrink smaller and smaller but we were so consumed by our work we paid it no mind. and even as the swollen purple clouds closed in and blotted out the sun, we continued on. even when the first drops of summer rain would splash down on our works of art, turning the light grey of the old cement to black and causing the colours to deepen and run together, we continued on. because the colors always looked best when wet. we would only stop when our distressed mothers would rush out, their faces wrought with scorn at our soiled dresses.
i find that that is the difference between children and adults. children are so ful of optimism when regarding life. grown ups know better.
this brings me back to this evening, this uncomparable evening. it was alight with its terrible beauty. so uncomparable because of my outlook on it. i'm old enough that my ever-pleasant attitude toward life has been tarnished by the countless uglies ive witnessed, but young and open-minded enough to still see the beauty in everyday life, no matter how hidden it may be.
on this particular day the sky was a deep clear blue, the sun shone with an incredibly golden light that reflected off anything that crossed it's path; trees, houses and the deep purple clouds that lingered on the horizon. the air itself reflected the golden radiance and i breathed deeply and i was filled with the happiness that ran rampant through the air. the pecimist in me saw the deep purple clouds and grew saddened by the rain that would innevitably come and ruin this perfect moment. the optimist in me saw only the sun and its wonderous effect on my neighborhood and willed it to last forever.
but i am neither this nor that, i am both, everything, a realist. i saw both the clouds and the sun and i saw something bigger. i saw life. half empty or half full, the fact is that there's water in the glass, be happy with what life dishes out, i accept it as it is.



Short story by dre
Read 618 times
Written on 2008-03-14 at 00:48

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