The cool embrace of clean sheets as I slipped out of the burgundy prom dress and into bed, the air thick with the smell of roses and my cheeks still flushed from a first kiss.

Standing at the peak of the Smokies, the wind whipping my hair and my knees shaking, gripping for purchase. I was laughing breathlessly, the air shallow in my lungs, and I knew You were there next to me, feeling it too.

Marching a trail in the frost, our horns blew clouds of steam with every note, the harmony taking the melody’s hand and dancing with it, echoing over the rooftops and across the sky.

My brother’s voice in the middle of the night, asking if he could sleep with me after a bad dream.

The sunrise, a blend of vibrant colors, with early morning flights sending contrails across the horizon, like the world’s Painter had flicked the brush over the canvas, punctuating His masterpiece.

A furtive glance across the rows of books, catching his eye and blushing furiously, our nervous laughter quickly silenced by the librarians.

Slow dancing with my mother, thinking back all those years, to when I was still smaller than her, to when she would hold me, suddenly terrified by how fragile she seems in my arms.

The water rushing over and on top of me, enveloping me in its cool arms. My father’s strong grip at my elbows my only anchor, I vaguely wondered if one could simply become weightless and float away, straight out of the baptistery and into the heavens.

A screaming, crying, pushing and shoving fight in the street during a rainstorm. You looked at me and asked what it was I wanted, the emptiness in your eyes reflected in the lightning behind you. You drove away, and left my tears to blend with the rain.

Laying in the tall, lush grass, watching the fireworks explode overhead, the sky an inky blue blanket, torrents of color sown into its folds. As I lay there, the watermelon juice sticky sweet on my fingers and those of the enraptured five year old beside me, I felt the
booms vibrating deep in my chest, resounding in my lungs and moving the beat of my heart to its tempo.

The beautiful sound of a child’s belly laughter, echoing through the walls of the house and brightening the rooms until the air is light and fresh, our hearts near bursting from the smiles.

Sneaking out after the bell for lights out, past the staff cabins and the campfire, up the side of the mountain and on an adventure, the soft footsteps of mischievous teenage girls the only wrong note in the summer evening’s symphony.

The pastor gives us an opportunity to write a letter to God. A man sits next to me and cries as he writes his letter. On a whim, a blessed, God-given whim, I stand and ask if he would like to pray with me.

Baton whirling through the air, sweat glistening on the conductor’s brow, he was a flurry of movement, dancing with the music. As he cued various instruments, his hands leapt and twirled, molding the music like clay, forming the band into the masterpiece he desired.