the secret garden

Passing through the garden gate, the world of dull grays and monotonous noise fades away in an instant as I’m transported to an entirely new reality. The air is thick with humidity, soft and soupy, enveloping me in the comforting pressure of a loved one’s hug. Yet despite the humidity, the air is that refreshing cool of a July evening, only heightened by the gentle breeze that continuously caresses my skin with its sweet perfume of honeysuckle and jasmine, the scent of summer’s abundance and possibility. Wispy white clouds drift lazily across the sky, ablaze with sunset’s pink hues, softness and ferocity juxtaposed in perfect balance. Taking in my surroundings, I notice the twinkling of fireflies playing at the edges of my vision as they dance their whimsical dance, transporting me back to the innocence and freedom of childhood summer evenings — all dried sweat and dirty hands, hot asphalt under bare feet, shouts of joyous laughter and jars of captured light. The world around me, just a moment ago so  lifeless and mundane, is now wrapped in the warm glow of twilight, its diffused sunlight softening all edges, erasing harshness and sharp angles, including my own.