GRAM'S KRISPY CANDY

The sun starts to warm my layered body, seeping through my clothes, and caressing my skin. My hands hold the handlebars of an all-terrain vehicle as I fly through the desert. I tail last behind my family, they lead before me, blowing up dirt in their wake. I feel light, almost as if I am filled with hot-air or helium, and I might just fly into the cactus-lined sky. A paralyzing revelation strikes as I bend with canyon walls on my way to the blue above. I would do anything for these people in front of me. I would do anything for the people that I love. This internal conviction is transient, much like when a soul or a ghost moves through you. Its essence lingers, making itself comfortable inside the grey matter of my brain, scaffolding my insecurities with goodness.