Strut

The boy was bouncing off the walls; music rang in his ears, dreams animated to the rhythm of his thoughts.

The whole world was his, the whole world was theirs.

What the future had in stock could not be defined in terms of excitement alone. What the future had in stock could not be expressed in any communicable form of joy or enthusiasm.

He felt it all, the whole world, from the toes on his feet to the brim of his scalp.

The smiles, the laughs, the moments of joy, accomplishment, and contentment to come. The ones already here.

An image of him strutting on the street, music echoing his every step.

The path he would follow in life would be like this, he thought.

Animated, exciting, breathtaking.

Because life is like that.

To think that he could think this way, view this way, feel this way, felt phenomenal.

So much energy, so much enthusiasm. So much excitement for life.

“Will this end?” he thought.

“Is this just youth?” he thought.

There was no way to tell, but no reason to either. He believed the excitement would continue.

At becoming a grandfather, would he be any less excited?

He doubted that.

He continued to strut, music echoing his every step, every year of his life, every step of the way.

Colors bursted all around him, all in his head, an orchestra of life and liberty and joy and vivacity exploded in a grandiose display of what was now, what was to come, and what was to look back on with a jaded smile.


Written in Davis, California, U.S.A.

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Moments made of people and places, brilliant and ordinary. ↹ Planet Earth, Milky Way

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