There Are Giants In the Sky
I think I’m growing.
At 30 years old, I’ve been 5’9 and a proud ¼” for about as long as I can remember. But something strange has been happening.
I remember clearly the first time I noticed it. It was actually last year, during the Summer of Yes. I was standing on the platform at the Broadway stop, looking across the tracks and up at a beautiful blue sky, the kind that’s full of fluffy cotton ball clouds. All at once, I felt my legs grow long and my arms begin to stretch, and my spine extend to the length of the track itself. And I knew, I just knew with absolute certainty, that if I were only to extend my hand, I could reach up and pluck a cloud right out of the sky. That I was big and they were small, and the distance that normally seemed to separate us had all but disappeared.
It’s happening again, these last few weeks, more frequently now. I’ll be walking through the streets, and I seem to take up the entire sidewalk. I’ll be standing still, and I’ll feel my energy pressing against the walls. It’s not aggressive, not pushing anyone out of the way; it’s a matter of expanding out to the edges of my being. I am 10 feet tall, my shoulders as broad as a city block, my head skimming the stars.
Oh sure, there are a hundred boring reasons to explain it. Say, if you like, that I am making an effort to carry less burdensome baggage on my shoulders. Or that I’m regularly getting acupuncture. That I’ve returned to an old flame in my physical activity, and my back is stronger every day. If you prefer, give the credit to my new boots, with their solid soles and amazing ankle support.
I’ll go ahead and believe it’s magic, though, if it’s all the same to you. That I am growing, in all sorts of directions simultaneously. That the lift comes from a lightness in my heart, and that as the path of my life moves onward and upward, so does my body.