A four letter word we pretend to comprehend,
an abstract concept, taken for granted
until one's four letter word nears its end.
But like an enticing scarlet flame
engulfing a majestic sequoia tree,
there is beauty in endings,
that's what we call a memory.
When your five year old face passed for a tomato when you accidentally called your teacher mom.
Seventh grade gym class where you had your awkward first kiss.
Extreme highs of happiness,
thinking to yourself it can't get any better than this.
Late night laughter with your bestfriend at a sleepover for two,
your stomachs become sore,
your cheeks go numb,
tears of unabashed joy falling to the floor.
Don't forget those dreaded Monday mornings
when you refused to climb out of the mountain of blankets that was your bed.
Mint green toothpaste stained your favorite shirt and with only ten minutes to spare,
you rushed to school with a tangled nest of hair on your head.
But that Monday morning madness,
remixed into Friday morning's song.
Cha-cha sliding, skipping, gliding through the day
like a graceful dancer who could do no wrong.
You can't spell life without if.
And all the best mystery novels have some degree of uncertainty.
Like an affectionate couple strolling down the sidewalk together, highs and lows go hand in hand.
The amazing thing about life is that you also can't spell it without embracing spontaneity.