B

When I was little, my dad would let me sit beside him on the porch while he painted. He would tell me how the cow by itself is just a cow, and the meadow by itself is just grass and flowers, and the sun peeking through the trees is just a beam of light, but put them all together and you've got magic.

I understood what he was saying, but I've never felt what he was saying until one day when I was up in the sycamore tree to rescue a kite stuck in the branches. It was a long way up, but I thought I'd give it a shot. I started climbing. Then I looked down. And suddenly I got dizzy and weak. I was miles off the ground! But the kite was still beyond my reach. I caught my breath and forced myself to concentrate on the kite as I climbed up.

When I had the kite free, I needed a minute to rest. That's when the fear of being up so high began to lift, and in its place came the most amazing feeling that I was flying. Just soaring above the earth, sailing among the clouds.

Then I began to notice how wonderful the breeze smelled. It seemed like sunshine and wild grass and rain! I couldn't stop breathing it in, filling my lungs again and again with the sweetest smell I'd ever known.

I never got over the view. I kept thinking of what it felt like to be up so high in that tree. I wanted to see it, to feel it, again. And again.

It wasn't long before I wasn't afraid of being up so high and found the spot that became my spot. I could sit there for hours, just looking out at the world. Sunsets were amazing. Some days they'd be purple and pink, some days they'd be a blazing orange, setting fire to clouds across the horizon.

It was on a day like that when my father's notion (观念) moved from my head to my heart. The view from my sycamore was more than rooftops and clouds and wind and colors combined.

And I started marveling (惊奇) at how I was feeling both humble and majestic. How was that possible? How could I be so full of peace and full of wonder?

It was magic.