Philosophy (In My Own Backyard) | Teen Ink

Philosophy (In My Own Backyard)

March 20, 2013
By LoonyLoopyLupin GOLD, Raynham, Massachusetts
LoonyLoopyLupin GOLD, Raynham, Massachusetts
13 articles 0 photos 52 comments

Favorite Quote:
"I am proud of who I am. I believe in what I do." -Pavel Chekov (Star Trek The Original Series, episode: "The Way To Eden")

Today I saw a backpack. My backpack. On a porch. It was a brown, plaid backpack; rather plain-looking. It was on a deck. The deck was smooth and beautiful; at least, you could tell it had been. The weather had wearied it and it now had a smudged, aged, damaged look to it.

I took about ten paces back from the backpack, down the stairs and into the yard, and then turned around. I was told to turn around, by a voice in my heart. I am not arrogant enough to assume I warrant the time of the Voice, but it made me feel safer and happier in blind faith than I have in a long time.

Looking back at the backpack on the porch, I noticed that the entire look of the bag had changed. What used to be muddy, ugly, and out of place nearly anywhere now blended in pleasantly. It was brighter than the dreary wood. It gave a hint of what the wood used to be, back when it was new and beautiful and great. The shade harkened back to what the deck was intended to be: it blended in without dissolving in. It was like someone had wanted to remind me that the fixture used to be bright and beautiful, but had fallen into disrepair. And that this new installation could, in the right setting, hint at the former glory of the structure it had been placed on.

And the most striking detail? Off the zipper of the bag shone a white, pure beam of sunlight.

I ALSO saw some snow in my yard. It was the last remnant of a bitter snowstorm. It looked opaque. I was afraid to step on it, for it had been there so long and I didn't know what to expect- what if there were ice underneath, and I fell and hurt myself?- but upon plodding onto it, I noticed something. Where I had dared to tread, the harsh, aged snow had vanished. A transparent layer of slush remained, and through it I had a perfect view:

There, where the thing of yesterday had festered, lay a fresh bed of grass ready for the coming spring.

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