M . C

There was this one time, when I was kid, my Mom woke me in the middle of the night. It was the first snowfall of the season. Had been storming all night. The storm'd passed, and the clouds had rolled back so the darkest indigo-purple sky could pour the most quicksilvered moonlight over the snow, scattering it with crystaline sprinkles, etching it with crisp black shadows of snow-laden trees. I looked out on a completely different landscape that used to be my front yard, the street, my neighborhood. Everything was new. The perspective from my window had somehow been transformed so that all manner of wonderful and wondrous possibilities were now extent and imminently probable. I wake like that and look upon our world with such hope and wonder every day I can.