When the memories fade and I can’t see the colors quite as brightly anymore I will not forget this place in time.
19 years old and living fully.
Dreaming but not the American Dream. A dream much better than I could have ever imagined.
Because from now on I will always know what it feels like to be alive.
From now on my hips will feel the rhythm of the African music coming from the oversize speakers in the road side stand selling second hand shoes.
From now on my ears will know the laughs of children, an intoxicating sound meant to be bottled.
From now on my hand will know the dirty grip of their small hands in mine as we spun around the trash littered dirt roads like they were red carpets for us and us alone.
From now on my feet will understand that a soccer ball is more than a soccer ball. Its passion, its the cold clay between your toes, its connection.
From now on my mouth will know how to sing praise that is heard around the world. Shout it to the masses. My God is good.
From now on my pen understands what it means to write in the cool crisp air on a cracked concrete porch after the thunderstorms minutes before.
From now on I can’t go back because I now know what it means to dream with my eyes wide open.
