Blank. Canvas.

There’s something special about life just after a mid-day rain. The steam rises softly from the asphalt slowly and sensually melting back into the air it just fell through. Trees never look so happy as after that mid-day rain. I swear I can hear the roots growing and the trunk chuckling in that gut-deep uncle way. See the leaves dancing carelessly like sun-kissed children after a sprinkler. And yet, the sky, as if all was imagined, appears naked and blue, not a cloud in sight. And that’s when it hit me.

Blank. Fucking. Canvas.

See, It started gently at first with the slight wind and light drizzle where the clouds slowly move in over the sun causing a greying effect like a sub-par date followed by the obligatory lackluster texts about how we should meet again but never really do…and then it’s flash flood warnings in your immediate area like losing emotional connections you thought would last lightyears, a physically ruptured Achilles tendon, or loss of a job. It’s okay, I didn’t want that anyway. (The job. I wanted my tendon.) As I sit there trying to feel, anything, it hit me.

Blank. Fucking. Canvas.

It took a while, but I’m here. Skies so blue it hurts your eyes, where the sun is shining so vibrantly your skin has no choice but to dance. You feel life and happiness build up inside of you as the steam rolls eagerly by you and whispers positivity in your ears. This is it, year 30, with the illest of fresh starts. She’s been waiting for that long, just through that small door in your heart, supplied, ready, and anxious to help with your Blank. Canvas.

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