baby, we'll be fine

Two of the greatest people in the world, and I'm lucky enough to call both of them friends. And facing the dismal prospect of not seeing either of them very often over the summer. And them facing the even more dismal prospect of not seeing one another very often over the summer. My ability to emphathize overwhelms me sometimes. Gah, don't look at me, there's just dust or something in my eye.

sunflower seeds

I'll be able to walk, barefoot, through my forest of sunflowers, marveling at these towers of green and yellow and brown, smiling at how insignificant I am compared to such beauty. I'll be able to lie down in my forest of sunflowers, gaze up at the sky, the blue sky, and laugh as my monstrous sunflowers block out the very thing they are named after. No need for shade trees. I'll be able to sleep in my forest of sunflowers, unafraid of nightmares, nightmares of loss and sadness and darkness, for such things would surely perish in the face of such light and simplicity. I'll be able to daydream in my forest of sunflowers, and as I dream, my mind will be clear of anything that takes away from the happiness of such a moment. I will think of the person who gave me this forest of sunflowers, and wonder at what I'd ever done to deserve such kindness.

magnets

What if there were magnets in everyone's hearts. And if you got too near your soul mate, or they got too near you, or you got too near one another, you'd fly right into each other's arms. Picture New York City. No, picture New York City on Valentine's Day. There would be more people zooming around the crowded streets than taxicabs. And everyone would be smiling. Even the people who weren't fortunate enough to find their soul mates on that particular day, for they would see the promise and the hope, the promise and the hope literally flying around them. They would feel it rushing past them--the tornado of newly united lovers--in the whirl of a young woman's skirt, in the whip of a businessman's tie. And imagine the moisture in the air, of coffee and cappuccinos and mocha lattes, milk and chocolate and vanilla all thrown carelessly up toward the sky, for the jolt from the magnetic heartstrings doesn't allow time to set things down. Imagine that. How wonderful. For those who are lucky enough to have already found their soul mates, they would look upon this wild scene, nod their wise heads, and smile. They remember what it felt like to defy gravity, to fly over the bewildered heads of the cynical and the hopeless, and land safely and gently, into the arms of a familiar stranger. And they remember knowing, without the shadow of a doubt or the luxury of memory, that this person was going to be significant.