It is in my heart to think how I may envision my own future. Should it be as vivid as my mind attempts to make reality now? I’m certain of what I want. I close my eyes and envision interwoven threads atop grass of a deep green. The sky is overcast, making everything clearer and more spectacular somehow. There is a hand holding mine; a confident, strong grip that ensures a warm emotion within its touch. There are children, bubbly, colored, and innocent, frolicking through the meadow––the purity of being carefree and joyous reflects on them like the great shine of the heavens. My mother watches them with a gleam in her eyes and I loop an arm through hers and cherish the familiarity of her shoulder. There is nothing more that I could ever want than a future where I am loved and embrace the things that love me so. That is the bliss of life: the hope that one day our existence on earth can be as fulfilling as we believe it may be after we perish.
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