When I was younger, I  had a bike of metalic yellow. I can close my eyes and still see that glittery shimmer, just like sunlight! I rode that bike everywhere. 
 Our town was known for it’s flowers. My best friend’s dad worked for a grower and their home was surrounded by flower fields, stretching out a quarter mile one way and  more than a mile in the other.
On our backs in the cool dirt, between high rows of gladiolas, we’d trade stories. The flowers burst out in every color, their stalks stretching high above us – like a forest. The broad leaves would light up like stained glass.
 I’m still gathering it all in- Visual pleasure, the love of my life.

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