To sit in the sunlight, knowing it will warm the surface of our skin but could never be made into a sweater or robe.
To watch the clouds pass, recognizing their soft and gentle nature, appreciating their flowing grace, without trying to capture them between our fingers or weave them into a blanket.
To feel on the edges of our ears or the tips of our nose the moisture in the air indicating a storm will soon arrive, to watch the sky grow grey and not run for cover or curse the lack of sun but rather to wait with eager anticipation the drops which will fall, and the subsequent puddles which will form, into which our boots will most certainly enter with great velocity.
To sit in the sunlight once more, as the last of the mists roll over the distant skyline, as the soil and rooted plants in harmony sing hymns of gratitude with the sweet, earthy smell of petrichor, watching, perhaps, as thunderheads form on the distant horizon, but thinking not of the gales which they may herald but of the calm which is here, now.
To know “you”, as you are, seeing in your eyes a reflection of mine, only as a reminder, not to be transfixed upon “me” , to detract as such from “you”, or to overlook the magic that is and always will be “us”.
To seek, to find, and to be absent at times, peace, joy, and love, not to be expect a freedom from difficulties, but to remain resilient regardless and show kindness without conditions or expectation of reciprocation, from others or from life with all its mysteries.