Late summer evenings are always relaxing. The deep dark blue is beginning to take over the eastern horizon, while complemented by the thousand shades of orange around the setting sun.
We stop and sit on a wooden bench. My little nephew Taylor sits back and leans against me while finishing his ice cream. The pinks and reds begin to appear on the high cirrus clouds. Sometimes on these late August evenings, I think it all might be a dream.
And there she stood, quietly, almost as if she didn't belong. Her body, her mouth, and the way her eyes didn't seem to wander around at all. The way her long straight brown hair moved around softly, and how the blue in her eyes reminded me of the mid-afternoon sky where you can almost see forever.
I tell my little nephew to turn his chair around to look over the scenery and people with me. He's still too small to see over the edge from a chair, so he comes over and leans against the rail with me. As the cool ocean breeze blows through his red hair, he tells me what he sees.
I breathe the cool late summer night air and put my arm around his shoulder.
We stop and sit on a wooden bench. My little nephew Taylor sits back and leans against me while finishing his ice cream. The pinks and reds begin to appear on the high cirrus clouds. Sometimes on these late August evenings, I think it all might be a dream.
And there she stood, quietly, almost as if she didn't belong. Her body, her mouth, and the way her eyes didn't seem to wander around at all. The way her long straight brown hair moved around softly, and how the blue in her eyes reminded me of the mid-afternoon sky where you can almost see forever.
I tell my little nephew to turn his chair around to look over the scenery and people with me. He's still too small to see over the edge from a chair, so he comes over and leans against the rail with me. As the cool ocean breeze blows through his red hair, he tells me what he sees.
I breathe the cool late summer night air and put my arm around his shoulder.
Your writing creates a beautiful image in my mind, and I remember my similar experiences - it's really great.
More people should have memories like this, the small subtleties are what make each day memorable.
For you:
"Eloquence is a painting of the thoughts."
- Blaise Pascal