I was the first to see the sun rise that day. The first in the world. I was, after all, in the city that is the first to see the sun. Each and every day. That feeling, that feeling of being the first, is second only to this other feeling.
This feeling. What do you call it? How do you describe it? No, words just don’t seem to do it. This feeling of sand beneath my feet and between my toes. This feeling of soft breeze blowing across my face and caressing my hair. This feeling of lightness and darkness, mix-matched to become one.
This feeling. Of sunflowers upon sunflowers looking up at the sky. Of small scattered lavender fields hidden behind crops of corn. Of morning glories at the first light of day. Of dancing ladies with their skirts fluttering with the wind.
This feeling. Yes. This is it. This feeling that lifts you up gently and frees your soul. This feeling that grants you every wish you could ever wish for, yet you can think of none. This feeling that you could want nothing, do nothing, be nothing, and be everything at the same time.
This feeling of being overwhelmed, from within and without.
I let go and I think. I was the first to see the sun rise today. The first in the world. But you know, that feeling of being the first, is nothing compared to the feeling of feeling that you are right here with me.
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