Innocence

We captured the last day of summer. It was trapped in a jar with the lid almost twisted shut, but we caught it right before that final twist.

We drove along a winding road sprinkled with bits of green patches and large, expensive estates. Blue and white, white and gold, and warm rays of sunlight that we chased towards the ocean. I sat in the passenger seat, my arm out the window making waves against the wind. Dave Matthews Band played in the background.

I’ll always remember that day because it was the last memory I have of absolute innocence. On that last summer day, I wasn’t thinking about where I came from or fearing when this moment would end. There was no shame in my joy, like somehow I was stealing it from someone else and sooner or later I’d have to give it up for someone else to have a turn.

And changing Autumn invited me into her secret, and then it was us and nature, us and spirit, us and that extraordinary gift we call life. And I remember a smile without wrinkles, not because I was young but because my smile was so big that it stretched the skin tight and no fear could possibly hide within its dark folds.

That was pure innocence.

 

 

 

 

 

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