There are brief moments when a photograph of a sunset or the soft moon light bathing the room in her silver glow offers a hopeful glimpse into the possibility of peace. They are short, but there. And, in these moments I realize that I occupy a place in which I can say "in my youth."
In my youth, I was bouyant with life. Life and love bursting out of every seam of my soul. There is one specific memory ... it was either freshman or sophomore year in college and it was night. Late. My best friend and I, brazen with that sense of invincibility, were taking a walk around our college campus in Baltimore. We veered towards the Baltimore Art Museum. We were so happy and for no reason at all. Well, that is not true. We were aware of our luck: to be alive and in love. Ferverously in love with life. We climbed up on the statue outside the museum and just laughed and talked. About what, I do not remember. I do remember the fire in our souls, that lit up our eyes and coarsed through our fiber. Time was relative and it stood still. The rest of our lives lay ahead of us: an endless shimmering sea of possibilities and a horizon in which it was hard to imagine an end. That moment was youth. And, it makes me smile.