I couldn't wait to get home, back to my computer. I was composing this in my head in the car. Definetely not my best, but maybe I'll edit this later.

So you know when you’re doing something that you’ve done for a long time, something that seems routine, like doing homework or playing piano, and then you realize that next to everyone else, you just epically fail? Yeah. That’s me.

I out, and I was irritable and stressed, because break is almost over and so was the deadline for my homework. Then I looked up and saw the sky. It was…like baby’s skin, except the color of pink cotton candy that’s been in the sun too long. Except the baby’s skin was scarred and pitted, and the scars shimmered golden like twisted tissue.

So now I’m a horrible person because I envisioned a scarred, pink baby in the sky. But if you think about it figuratively, emotionlessly, then you can see that it kinda makes sense. This is a time of rebirth, a new beginning, according to a lot of people. Thus the baby. Maybe we carry the marks of our “past lives,” but the wounds have long since been healed. Maybe not skillfully, maybe not without the passage of time, or only because time has piled on so much that it is forced to heal, but it is healed. The scars will be forever with us. They will mark our skin and perhaps twinge before a rainstorm. But for now, we are babies, reborn, trusting, innocent. Who would hurt a baby?

So that’s it, then. I just wanted to tell you about the sunset. Maybe the same image is painted on the sky every day. But maybe you know, I rarely stray from the corner that is my office, and even more rarely leave my house. So for me, at least, the idea of the sun setting and the sky turning violet and pink and golden is a mind boggling, beautiful thing. Same to a baby. Happy New Year.

1-4 update:

Dad took a picture!