i carry this memory

“We’re going to Falling water."

I hadn’t had the slightest idea on what my mom told me. We had just arrived in Pittsburgh, Ohio from Florida. It was summer. I was tired, tense and uneasy. I didn’t know what to expect. If it was just some other shrine, I promised myself I’d mourn. It was a three-hour drive from the airport. And then we arrived. And then I took back every single bad thing I had said about the place.

Enclosed in a quiet forest was a brilliantly designed house on top of waterfalls. Under, a river bellowed. If you looked up you’d see branches curling against the sunlight. Birds chirped and the forest intrigued me with various paths.

It was, by all means, beautiful.

The house itself was undoubtedly radiant. But if it were placed in some random, big and rich village in the city, I wouldn’t have had the same response. Then what was it about the house that made me glint with awe?

It was definitely the environment. Who wouldn’t love to fall asleep to the music of the flowing river that went on and on? Who wouldn’t love to continuously hear the tapping of water under their floor?

Nature. There’s just something so relaxing about it, that it makes me want to be hugged by my favorite, navy blue sweater, delight myself with some hot chocolate, curl up into my favorite book, take pictures, write, and do everything all over again. And all of this makes me so happy.

So. I carry this misjudged, enriching and amazing memory to remind me how I define true beauty.

It’s the view of the whole city from an airplane window that I catch on a few seconds before I disappear between the clouds. It’s that item on the top shelf of my favorite store that I’ve been saving up for my whole life. It’s when I finally overcome what hurts me most. It’s the quietness of Nature, its genuine beauty and how it makes me swoon. It’s my emotions—and what lets them come out.

It’s both the big things and the little things.

That’s what beautiful is to me.