I Love Being Human

Molly Taft

I love being human. I love to stare at the night sky, little orbs of light cloaked by dark clouds. I love to wonder what’s out there, or if we’re all alone here, together.

I love being human. I love my fuzzy memories from when I can barely remember. I love the way my little hands could fit into my Dad’s palm. I love to think about the nights when Mom would lull me to sleep, Singing I Just Called to Say I love You.

I love being human. I love to roll around in the grass. And when it rains, the storm clouds roll in, and the wet hot Pavement smells like summertime. I love the way the tide washes away my footprints in the sand. I don’t mind if no one knows I was here, For I know it, and I feel so grateful.

I love being human. I love my eyelashes and my painted fingernails. I love to comb my hair and shave my legs. I love the bruises on my knees, they tell stories. I love to think about a time when I wasn’t here yet, And the time when I will be gone. I love to be a blip in time, a lucky accident.

I love the glare of the sun, the phases of the moon, the solace of prayer, the warmth of my friends when we hug. I love the smell of lilacs and little puppies. I love to put the top down of my car, blasting my favorite songs.