Inner Beauty

Walking out the door, the late morning rays suffocate your eyes as
you reach for the rail and start walking down the steps. You turn right
and start moving down the sidewalk while the vibrant sounds of the town
rattle in your ears. The walkway stretches before you, leading you to
the serenity of the local park, as you taste the dampness of wet
pavement with each breath. A group of children, whizzing past you on
their bikes, help forge a smile to your face before you gaze up at the
clear, bright sky. The beautiful canvas above you warms your heart as
you avoid stepping on a sidewalk crack.

An alley breaks off to your right before you glance upon a man who is
filtering through a dumpster. He shoots a look at you with his hollow
eyes before drowning his attention into the debris he has found. You
quickly survey the dirty, worn clothes that hang on his thin frame. A
soft, gentle voice whispers, "Thank you," inside your mind while your
feet continue to move you down the sidewalk. The thankfulness of having
food and a roof over your head washes through your body as you focus on
the park that lies ahead.

Checking for cars as you reach the corner, you cross the street and
enter the park. The thick, green grass bows under your feet with each
energetic step. The aroma of wet flowers and wet bark jumps inside of
you, causing your lungs to pause as you savor the natural scent of
nature. The shine in your eyes flashes across the pond, which stretches
off to your left, and the empty park bench that rests along the shore.
The bench stands alone, like a child sitting in a corner for time-out,
waiting for attention. You casually turn and start to move towards the
faded brown bench as your eyes search the pond for wildlife.

Stepping towards the bench, two squirrels, running up a tree, catch
your attention for a moment before you refocus on a pair of
ducks you find sitting in the pond. Walking behind the bench, your
fingertips glide along the beaten and worn surface of the wood. It
seems to cry out to you as you look closely at the texture . . . a
texture that has been beaten and punished by the
elements of the changing seasons. As you move around the edge of the
bench, you see the two ducks moving closer to you as
they anticipate pieces of bread being thrown to them.

You sit down and rest your arm across the back of the bench while
absorbing the serenity around you. A warm, content smile slips onto
your face before you tilt your head upward. The heat from the sky warms
your face like cold hands hugging a hot cup of coffee. Your life, at
this very moment, is perfect as your heart pushes and circulates the
vessels of joy through its mighty rivers. One last time, you look at
the clear, blue sky before slowly closing your eyes and removing your
hand from . . . . . The Braille In The Book.