June 16, 2015

The Best Day of My Life.

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And if people were days, you would be the best day of my life.

There you are.

Not warm, but the sun shining from your soul is like a fire lighting in a dark room.

You enter the souls of houses, streaming across white linen beds and handmade, carved wooden tables and there you are, ever so brightly in oblique rays reflecting in my bright glasses—and I could always tell you had a flame inside of you.

One that would never die and stand the test of time.

You fill my white coffee mug with sunshine and hope and when I press the edge of you against my lips, it’s like sipping on the pieces of you I have yet to taste.

But it isn’t summer all year and my life isn’t always bright, but you are the rain.

You are the crisp, freshness of a winter morning.

You are golden autumn leaves.

You are the sound of a diesel truck starting and startling the sparrows that lift so effortlessly into life.

You are the moon behind my bedroom curtain. You are the stars I gaze at before closing my antique-made front door. You are freshly cut grass. You are nature.

You are raw coffee beans and the sensation of salty waves hitting against my not-so-perfect pair of legs.

You are part of this earth, but not made from it.

All the moments built up to exactly you and exactly who you are. And the sun has never shined so brightly before and the rain has never poured harder against my window.

But I am safe in your cradled arms. And if people were days, you would be the best day of my life.

You came unexpectedly, I had no idea it would be a good day. You are a good day. You are the skip in my step on a Monday morning.

You are a scarf tightly wrapped around my neck to keep warm.

You filter into all the things I love.

My good old friend, even when you go to find the parts of you that have been lost for so long, even when you go and create yourself half way across the world, always remember that we will always share the same sun and the same air. We will always be walking the same planet and falling asleep to the same constellation of stars.

You and I will always be under the same sky.


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Author: Laila Manie

Editor: Travis May

Photo: Author’s Own, Flickr/Samuel Hearn

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