Sometimes it seems as if I am trying to win something.
A hard sought prize at the end of a mentally challenging exercise.
The feeling I get from success is no less than elation.
Your smile, your laugh, perhaps you’re telling me you love me.
That’s the trophy.

It smells like the scent of Fall. The air just before the rain.
That hint of something more amazing just out of your reach,
That first second of crispness lingering in the air,
When you know that the cool is coming.
It surrounds me like the cologne one boyfriend wore way too much of,
I can smell it as soon as I open the doors, even if you’re nowhere near.
The familiarity, inebriation, the high.

It feels like my hand out the window of my car.
Justin Timberlake or Daniel Bedingfield turned up loud,
And I am singing break up songs at the top of my lungs.
Laughing belly laughs at myself and the ridiculousness of the song.
That moment when you pull up to a stop light singing without reservation or concern for key,
And you see in the turning lane beside you, an old lady smiling to herself about your freedom.
The breeze, the laugh, the youth.

It calms me like the stillness of the water after a long hike,
Looking out on the lake, my head in my hands, peace in my heart.
Body sweaty from the all work it took to get here,
Leaning forward as I push myself up the hills, bent with the effort.
Leaning back as I try to restrain myself walking down.
Head in the clouds, eyes on the sky, the water, the trees.
Mind cleared by the beauty of creation.
The fullness, the peace and ease.

It looks like I’m standing still,
When I am moving so fast I don’t even know it.
You point out the passing landscapes, the days and nights and years.
You shake me into awareness and I get sick from the motion.
My mind can’t keep up with the whip like speed of the change,
The crack of the sound barrier broken when I thought I’d live easy without your voice today,
And instead realize I need the burst of sound to hear even a whisper from another.
The silence and the speed.

And the taste! It tastes like the huckleberries I picked with my father,
A handful of teaberries, that first ripe strawberry my grandfather picked himself.
A cantaloupe we knocked on to make sure that it was ripe.
Cut it open and you can see there is no green around the edges,
Every huge bite fills my whole mouth with sweetness and juice.
The satisfaction, and the pleasure.

Sometimes it feels like everyone has forgotten my birthday,
Let the day pass them right by, life moving on as it should, would, could without me.
Yeah, sometimes it feels like I don’t exist at all.
Once in a while it feels like worry and shame, anxiety.
Anger, madness, frustration and pain.
The Heaven and the Hell.
The summit and the valley.
The peak and the pit.

It always feels like life.
Loving you is life itself.
A beginning, but no end,
And my God, the beautiful middle!

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