It was a cold night. The air snapped at my ears like an angry voice. My hands huddled in my pockets like two children afraid of the dark. All around me, the sounds of nature hummed a low tune which was only broken by my footsteps and those of my two best friends in the world. I had been experiencing some unpleasantness in my life and I invited them over under the premise that it would make me feel better- that it would make me forget about the new hole in my heart or my empty hand which may go months or years without having someone else to hold it. It seems odd that a day born from sadness would die in ultimate joy. It was at the big bend in the road. I can still bring it back vividly in my mind. The gurgle of the brook which refused to freeze, the whisper of the soft wind through the trees, the ghosts of many fantasies realized and not. A power awoke in me. I felt extremely alive and extremely aware of myself. I asked my friends to stop and just listen. My skin was cognizant of every molecule of air hitting it; my feet knew the ground was holding them up; my veins and arteries marveled at the blood pumping fervently through them. No one ever appreciates these miraculous things we have unless confronted with the idea of losing it all. Nothing should be taken for granted. When I acknowledge these truths: how beautiful it is to see, hear, taste, and touch. How beautiful to feel even sadness. When I was in that mind set everything that upset me before seemed impossibly unimportant. That night I discovered the beauty of living. I will never let go again.