At The End Of The Day

If by chance I could fly, if I could sail my body through the air, where would I go? If, indeed, I woke up one morning and discovered my ability to float, what would my mind tell me? If, one day, I was riding my bike and I crashed, I fell off, but didn’t feel the slightest pinch of pain and realized my body wasn’t touching the cement, what would I do first?
The first thing my mind would tell me to do would be to go back to my house: to fly up to my second story window, just like Peter Pan, and enter my room. I would sit on my bed until mid-day. When mid-day got there, I would fly out my window and soar to the sky. I would find the whitest, purest cloud I could and yank at its edge, pulling back its silver lining. I would wrap the lining around my wrist and fly back down to earth.
When I got back to my second story window I would go to my dresser and pull out an old, used paint kit, lacking paint. And I would wait yet again. I would wait for all clouds to pass by, so that sunset would come. And at sunset, when all white forms have left the sky, I would exit my room. I would drift as close to the sunset as I could possibly get, and stare at the beautiful yellows, oranges, and reds. I would stick out my hands and grasp each color then store them in the paint kit, each in its own little spot, shining.
At last, when day would end, return: I would, to my window and wait again, but not before grabbing a glass bottle off my wall shelf. Inside the bottle lay a tiny model ship and I would destroy the ship. I would put the bottle in my pocket. Once that was finished, I would wait: not for sunset, nor for clouds, but for sunrise. I would set my alarm for four thirty in the morning and rest. Then, when I heard the beeping, I would rise and soar out my window. I would get as close to sunrise as I could. And I would not gather color or a line of silver. Of course, I would grab the light. The light of a sunrise: the most beautiful in the world. I would store the glorious light and put it in the tiny, model ship bottle. To install such incredible light, in even this tiny of a bottle, would be able to light up my entire 22nd avenue.
And when I arrived back upon my bed I would not go to my room, but to my kitchen, and gather a coffee cup and a small matchbox. Then I would, yet again, wait the most suspenseful wait of all. I would wait: not for sunrise, sunset, nor for mid-day…but for night; for a blanket of black to fall over all of my side of the world, where stars would shine for miles and miles and miles. I would soar over the ocean and beneath the stars. Like hitting two birds with one stone, I would first dive down right to the ocean water, reflecting the beautiful stars above, and gather a small amount into my coffee cup. Then I would take off above the stars. I would pick out the most beautiful star I could find: the North Star, and put it gently in my matchbox. I would posses all of the earth’s beauty, and I would know exactly what to do with all of it.
There is a woman who I would find myself to be in love with. I would give all of it to her. First: the silver lining. I would untie the lining of silver from my wrist and braid her hair: intertwine the ribbon of sky between each lock. The lining would make the light shine around her, as if ascending from the heavens; an angel on earth.
Next there is the paint kit, full of colors from the sunset I handpicked myself. The reds, yellows, and oranges: all a glow. I would take a paintbrush and mix them all together, as carefully as I possibly could. And, with my own two hands, I would blend them upon her cheeks. The beauty and glow of a sunset would never leave her face; they would be drawn into her.
Then, out of my pocket, will be revealed the light of a sunrise in a tiny glass bottle. I would sew the gorgeous light into her smile. Already as bright as it is, her smile will light up the world. Her smile will be contagious throughout the planet; beauty at its best.
I would still have the ocean water left. I would take the ocean water out of its porcelain coffee cup; reflecting the stars of the night sky and, of course, put the awesome liquid in her eyes. Her eyes will reflect stars from the heavens while the purest of all blue surrounds them. The balls of fire would dance in her vision only others would be able to see. She would make all people question what beauty really was, because as far as anyone knows, there is no such a beauty on this planet. She still makes me question, do I love her because she is beautiful? But in truth; in my heart I know the answer: She is beautiful because I love her.
Finally, when all is finished, I still have but the star left. The Northern Star once sitting in the sky for all to gaze upon is now brought down to my bedroom, in a tiny matchbox, sitting on my dresser. I would not put it in place of something else on her body, I would simply hand it to her. I would say she is my world, and every world needs a star to light up its sky. I know she would stare at me and politely say thank you, but I would just stare back and politely say…You’re welcome.
At the end of the day, she would be the most beautiful woman in the world. Her smile would light up the entire planet. Her face would be the most amazing piece of art in the world. Her eyes; reflections of the stars in the heavens would be placed in the eyes of an angel.
And then, out of impulse, I would take it all away. I would erase all of it. All my work wasted away in less than five seconds. I would step back about two feet and gaze upon her, like so many have before. And me, and the entire world would see: there was absolutely no difference between the two girls in the first place.





Harmon