Beautiful

By Preethi Ravikumar

 

Beads of sweat running down

my face. The hot California sun

shining down on me like a spotlight

I could hear the murmur of my father’s

voice saying, “We are almost there!”

My tennis shoes are tinted with a light brown

shade from the dirt trail. I look up and see

the cool cotton candy skies of Yosemite and the

gigantic rock formation. I say to myself,

“Beautiful.”

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