Why do I Smile......

People always comment on or ask me why I'm smiling all the time. It usually puts me on a spot and I usually answer them, with a smile, that I don't know. Or I just tell them that it's something I do, and smiling is just my first reaction to everything because I don't know what to say. How are you supposed answer someone when they ask you why you smile so much? I even catch myself off guard, smiling. It seems slightly disturbing. But, when I was walking outside today and saw the trees sitting in the still air front of the awesomely blue sky, I realized that I was smiling, because I love life. Yes. That is why I smile. I smile because I think that life if beautiful. Leaves take my breath away when I look at them. I love to stand outside in the afternoon when the sun is on the cusp of setting because its exciting to watch the sun bounce off the leaves and cast a golden glow on that one tiny branch of leaves. Driving to Target fascinates me because when I drive on the highway, all I can see is the sky. It's like watching a panorama every time I go to the store- the sky surrounding me, and every time I go outside the sky is different. The sky never looks the same and it's impossible to stop myself from looking up because I know that there will never be a moment when the same exact clouds will be positioned in the same exact ways, or when the colors will be painted across the sky in the same light again. Watching a movie in the Imax is fun. The Imax Theater is pretty awe-inspiring . But nothing compares to looking at the sky when the sun is setting. And it's free. Sometimes the colors are so deep that I feel like they're pulsating from the sky. Everything I see is beautiful. When it is raining on what most people call "dreary" days, I like to watch the drops of water scattering in random little patterns. Seeing tall and seemingly sturdy trees saw in fast winds is really fun. The trees look like they can't help being mussed up in the frantic winds. Thunderstorms are the best. I get a feeling of excitement when sound of the thunder strikes deep cracking sounds in the air. I become electrified whenever I manage to catch a glimpse of lighting splitting the sky into pieces.
Nature is beautiful. And words are especially beautiful. I love the word vivacious. It's so juicy. It reminds me of bright tangy salad dressing, of my little grandmother's large voice, and of the women in Fernando Botero's paintings. The stem of the word- viva- life- exudes its own sense of power, and the –ious ending of the word makes it sound so full. Kind of like the word luscious. I've found that the best literature isn't the one with the most complicated words that make me squint to read. It doesn't mean that I don't like big words because it's true- broadening my vocabulary makes me feel smug inside sometimes because I feel a bit smarter than before. Reading books that overwhelm me with too much vocabulary doesn't interest me. Maybe it is because I haven't reached an intelligence level that is high enough to understand the whole English vocabulary, and I will always strive to know more. But, the books that I like the most are the ones that floor me with their outrageous facts, the ones that make me think, or the ones that pull me into their descriptions to the point that my hands hurt because I'm gripping the book so hard.
Reading makes me happy. The same way people make me happy. And watching people. One time, when I was sitting on a bench at the garden, I saw a little girl walking down the flower pathway. I don't remember what color her hair was or what kind of shirt she was wearing. Maybe she was five or six years old. I don't remember. But what I do remember were her little heeled sandals. I didn't think they was beautiful- on the contrary I thought that it was somewhat ridiculous for a such a young girl to be wearing heels, and I smiled when I saw her veering off to the sides as her shoes got the better of her legs. But before she went off I saw a hand reach out from behind her and push her back into the right direction. Her father was walking after her, gently helping her from behind. It was beautiful.
I recognize my friends from their laughs in the hallways. I know the sound of my mother's footsteps the same way I know it like the back of my hand, and I could recognize my brothers' presences even if I were blindfolded because of the horrid stench of their feet. Even when they refuse to put their shoes back on to stop contaminating the air that I breathe, I smile and am amazed at how feet could smell so bad. I smiled when I used an electric stapler for the first time to staple my physics paper together. And I am smiling now as I am finally done writing my smile essay.

Why do I Smile......