anemophilic | Light

I turned on the radio and shut the door. I felt elated. I felt surprised that I was so happy, even though the cause of my happiness wasn’t a surprise at all. I flopped on my bed and couldn’t sit still. It was like an energy bubbled up from my heart and spread into every inch of my body. I did pirouettes on the floor barefoot, stood on my head and then laughed when I came down and lay splayed out on the floor.

“I should be so lucky, lucky, lucky, lucky…” I sang along to the words on the radio with an irrepressible smile. I felt like I existed outside of time. Now was all there was and the future, whether it be tomorrow or ten years from now, would handle itself. I was at peace. My peace wasn’t a peace of stillness, it was a peace of boundless energy, of becoming— like a sunflower reaching for the sun. It felt strange and wonderful. I felt strange and wonderful, like, like an angel. I felt heavenly and yet very real, genuine. I knew then that my existence was a gift, and that nothing that anyone could say or do would ever change that fact. I knew that nothing I could ever do could change that fact. I felt holy. Everything around me seemed bathed in light. Nowhere to hide and no need to hide. No guilt, no fear…

My mother came upstairs and said that dinner was ready. She said that she was surprised by how giddy I seemed. She must’ve been expecting me to be dog tired since I had had both singing lessons and rehearsals for the school play at the end of November. At all events, she must’ve written it off as my excitement for the play. Ah! If only you knew…