Seasonal Perfection

Stretching his arms nearly to the point of snapping, Ben was barely capable of restraining his exhilarating scream. Viewing the new day through tiny slits, he steeled his eyes for the surrounding sunlight. Casting his sheets aside, he bolted from bed, immediately feeling the familiar scratch of his old, worn rug. Smiling into his smudged mirror, he felt the inviting warmth of the sun on his skin.

Pulling the faded sweater he'd found on the windowsill over his head, he wondered if the day's weather warranted sandals. Already he could smell the trance-inducing sweetness of the fresh waffles waiting for him downstairs, sitting next to the trusty syrup, a majestic golden brown. The power of a re-energized world seemed to course in his veins, shooting to and from his heart, replenishing its euphoric fuel spilling forth from his lungs. He felt superhuman; the god of dawn seemed especially cheery today.

Wistfully spinning around the room, he followed the beautiful new blue paint on the walls, artfully dodging the massive oak armoire. Ben felt alive in a way he couldn't explain, his thoughts seemed to be a bird, soaring through a sky of ideas, his limbs were lighter and his senses keener. "This must be the exact opposite of depression," he thought.

Glancing out the window, Ben marveled upon the velvet green grass below, and for a second, he thought he could smell the subtle lusciousness of the rose dew, carefully distributed across the yard. The Sun merrily glanced upon the good people of New Haven, and precious warblers serenaded the fresh spring from a distance, like an orchestra to a film.

Not caring to glance at the almost painfully white hamper, Ben slid down the bronze banister, barely supporting his sporty descent. Neglecting the alluring breakfast spread across the table with beautiful precision, Ben skipped towards the shining door, barely touching the polished hardwood floor.

With a gentle twist, the door slide open, exposing Ben to the awesome glory of the day. Somehow, he felt more alive than before, and scarcely ignored the temptation to flip down the steps. The path was lined with Roses and Chrysanthemums; reds so deep, whites so pure, and yellows with a sparkle rivaling that of the Sun. With two playful bounds, Ben was at the sidewalk, taking in the crisp, flowering air, struggling to behold nature's elaborate flourish. So many trees, so many flowers; with a hummingbird to each petal, and ladybug to each leaf, the world was right.

A perfect unison such as this cannot be expected, and the astonishing serenity of the universe is almost too much for one man to take. Ben's senses were overloading, but in a good way, like the smiles of lovers, inevitably following each other, or the twinkle in the eye of a mother for the first time, such extreme emotion seemed to rush at Ben with the weight of the world's oceans.

The rosy blush of the just-ripened apples across the street caught Ben's eye, and for a moment, his hunger returned to the forefront of his feelings. On a day as decadent as this, with a life as carefree as his, on a street as still as this, desire is not an aspiration, or a wishful hunger, it is a way of life, and in this mode, Ben moved to cross the street.

At this precise moment, enamored with the same scenery, absorbed with the same atmosphere, predisposed to the same soulful wonderings, Mr. Adler, behind the wheel of his lustrous silvery Cadillac, with that new-car smell, and untouched whitewall tires wandered up the same street, and with a sudden thump, Mr. Adler's precious Caddy delivered a vicious wallop to Ben's poor, unassuming body, sending him into a dream-like flutter through the air. Ben's already throbbing body slapped the pavement in a most disturbing position, and poor Mr. Adler, who, as hard as he might try, could not wish what had transpired to have not been, had to sit in shameful attrition, and watch the colour evaporate from Ben's world.

The greyest of blue skies now covered Ben's Earth, dark-grey trunks, with light-grey leaves lined his black streets, white birds sailed in slow-motion, and with a smile, Ben thought of what colour really was, and thanked God for the beautiful morning.