Another Pretty Day

Today is the kind of day that sings. Campus is bustling not only with its regular students, but also with the many high schoolers who are visiting for the weekend. Their nervousness and excitement effortlessly blends in with the day’s hum. The sun has warmed the air, tantalizing us with a glorious, brief glimpse of spring. Chaco-clad feet dance in freedom, bare arms rejoice at not being trapped under sweaters and jackets. Pale, blinking students rub their sleepy eyes and slowly emerge from the dark hibernation of their dorms, soon to retreat once again when the oncoming blanket of rain clouds buries our campus in the upcoming week. But for now, we sing in the sunlight.

Or maybe I am the only one singing.

Maybe I am seeing my own laughter and song on every face I pass. This day has been so beautiful, how could they not feel like I am feeling? Surely behind that slightly amused smirk is explosive laughter, and behind those pressed lips is excitement, not anxiety. And that bored face, why does it look like that? That crying girl– is she really crying today, when the sun is smiling?

Maybe the sun and I are singing a lonely duet, and everyone else is passing by. Our song is the trumpeter’s song on the street corner. It fills the entire block, and yet it is ignored. A melodious day, a bright song- to pay them too much attention requires being shaken out of one’s own mind. The most recognition such fleeting beauties receive is a passing comment on their prettiness or perhaps some spare change.


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