As if the heavens parted slightly to share the last slice of innocent magnificence, sunlight shone on two children--a boy and a girl--playing in a meadow. Their shrieks of laughter were angelic and echoed in the hills timelessly as they rolled on the grass, enjoying each other’s company. It was an experience that could only fully be enjoyed by hearts still pure— hearts that had not been weighed down by the burden of experience or suffering or the longevity of time.
At the foot of a hill, the two children collapsed into each other as friction brought them to the end of a rolling adventure. Snuggled like a yin-yang in a bed of flowers, together, battling breathlessness from sporadic fits of giggles and aerobic exhaustion; the little boy looked into the beautiful, wide-open eyes of his playmate as she returned the favor to his observantly brilliant brown eyes. The boy laid his hand over where her heart rested in her body and was fascinated that he could feel the beat, like the conductor and composer to the song that made her breathe easy and freely:
“I can feel your heart dance.”
The little girl smiled at him for just a second and then quickly rose for an occasion, challenging him to a tag match, teasing that he could never touch her heart again while knowing, in Time, he very well could. She sprinted off into the expanse of the meadow and he received her challenge with the greatest excitement... knowing, even at an early age, that he would love nothing more than to touch her heart again.
He watched her fade away and he felt the rush to recapture the excitement with every second that passed him [bye], as he braced himself for the sprint of a lifetime.
See,
there,
THAT
was how he knew she was special:
She was the only girl who knew how to play
race,
chase,
and tag
with him--all before recess was marked over by the ringing of the Belle.
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