On the morning of the winter solstice, my sister and I make our yearly pilgrimage to the cemetery, where we have the most perfect view of the sun rise. We find the grave site of the Smithsons, our yearly hosts and companions in celebrating the most important moment of the year. The sun is a fiery orange this year, like a circus balloon, and the colors of the sky are like a candy shop. The yellows, pinks, oranges, and reds light up my world and make me smile from one end of the cemetery to the other.

It’s absolutely pure magic.

My sister and I watch in silence for a few moments, and then the real tradition begins.

“The sun is an artist,” I began, reciting the line which I had been planning since last April and saving for this very day, “who paints the sky every morning and evening with the colors she dreams up when the sky is black and blue.”

“The sun is a dolphin,” my sister adds, “that dives across the sky, bringing its happiness, its colors from the deep, and its clear, blue ocean water along with it.”


“The sun is a crane,” I say, “which brings peace to the Erath with its cheerfulness and its joy. The crane represents serenity and peace throughout the world.”

“The sun is serene.”

“The sun is serendipity.”

My sister stands up and helps me to my feet. “The sun is a pleasant find,” she says. “We, the people of Planet Earth, will live. We have not been plunged into total darkness! We will survive another year!”

“We will have life!” I announce. We run towards the rising sun. We run and celebrate life. We will live forever; everything on our little blue planet will live forever, whether we live as bodies in the ground, like Mr. and Mrs. Smithson, as ashes spread far and wide, or as carbon in the stars and the Sun above us. My sister and I fall to the ground, throw snow at each other, and roll on the ground. We laugh our hearts and stomachs out, we laugh loud, and when the laugh runs out, we fake it until we really are laughing again. We laugh for the world. We laugh for all the sad people out there— they need it every once in a while. We can hear everyone in the cemetery laugh along with us. It is our way of paying respect to the dead. We live out lives.

Laugh often, even if you are faking it. It’ll be real soon.

Live your life to the fullest.

Carpe diem for all!!!!!