At 6:30 in the morning, the sun lays its rays on the flatirons, and they glow. Light skims the tops of stone buildings, and birds chirp, signaling that morning has arrived.
Things are quieter here, closer to the cold ground, still untouched by direct sunlight. The naked, crouching trees are asleep, and the grass, covered with their shriveled leaves and leftover mounds of frozen snow, is silent.
That's when I realize that this is where I live. Where I party and study. Where I love, I think, I dream. This is the place where, each morning, I take my first hopeful breath, and where each night I fall asleep with a prayer. I'm living a dream.
It occurs to me that the next holiday is Thanksgiving.
Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Thank you God and thank you Mom. Thank you hard work and thank you fate. Thank you life for this chance to live - to really live - like everyone should. Thank you for food and beer; for friends and kisses. Thank you for crunchy leaves and foggy breath, for sunlight and rain. Thank you for the rainbow of colors, the scale of notes, the spectrum of scents. Thank you for wisdom and play, for knowledge, poetry, and art. Thank you for hope, for without it, we live in chains. Thank you for love, that gets us through the day. Thank you for dreams and fantasies, that remind us to never give up. Thank you for today.