shadows move faster in the wind.

Approximately two thousand one hundred and eighty-four days ago, the golden sun beat down on us as we celebrated the departure of a dear friend. Of course she wasn't completely "dear" to me, but the air was charged with everyone else's feelings. As usual in those days, I picked up on it and went with the flow. "Goodnight Elisabeth" came on and we closed our eyes and leaned back in our chairs. J said it was his favorite, out of the countless Counting Crows songs we blasted all summer. No one argued. Part of the bright green grass was still wet from the sprinkler and the water drops sparkled in the sunshine. After spending endless days subjected to oven-like heat and brown, straw-like grass, it was comforting to find that basic plant life did still exist in this vast, flat expanse of land. This was one day that I did not long for what I left behind: clear, crisp creeks; real waterfalls; and green rolling hills. I was, for once, content with my new surroundings. The girls kept serving coffee and I kept drinking it, too young to be conscious of equaling food to liquids. Hyped up on caffeine, we played a few games and our shadows danced in the evening sun as we chased each other around the yard. The sun began dropping from the sky and we lit a fire. Guitars came out and we all sang, celebrating the day, evening, and our dear friend who was moving to Spain. An hour later, people started leaving and I hitched a ride back. Glimpses of sun in the willow tree filled my mind and I sighed, the perfect ending to the perfect day.