I used to lie in the grass, gazing up at the blue canvas stretched from horizon to horizon. My eyes would swim among the clouds, my imagination running free. I knew, somehow, that even if I stood upon the tallest mountain—that aloof, elusive realm would evade my grasp, laughing at my efforts to reach it.
And yet, there were moments—moments when my heart would swell, and Impossibility itself would crumble around me, and I would stretch my hand toward the heavens. And that endless blue would whisper in my ear . . . “reach but a little higher.”