Wonder

Wonder

Never lose your capacity for wonder. When you do, you’ll wonder whatever happened to it. Then you’ll wonder if the reason your life seems to suck so bad is because you lost it at some point. You’ll wonder, “It is just me, or is the world significantly less awesome than it used to be?”

You’ll look back on that Fourth of July night when you were eleven, and how you went with your family to the state fair grounds to watch the Zambelli family put on the fireworks show, and your mom wasn’t drinking for a change, probably because your dad was taking the night off from flirting with the seventeen-year-old popcorn girl, and you were still carrying around the little league trophy you won the week before when your team beat your cross-town rivals, the Jayhawks, for the county championship.

You’ll think back to the way the freshly cut grass smelled like freedom, and summertime, and America as you breathed it in deeply that night, the way your little sister got ice cream all over her face, and how just when you thought the fireworks couldn’t get any better, they launched into the finale and the whole sky became a symphony of colors and sounds and shapes, and everyone cheered and smiled and laughed, and for the whole night everything was right in the world.

You’ll think back on that night and wonder “Is it just me? Or was that night like, a thousand times better than this fucking “Grey’s Anatomy” rerun that’s on TV?”

You’ll wonder. But you’ll never know for sure.