Sometimes, it's that first moment when you step outside, or when you reach the crest of a hill, or when your eye catches a horizon crowded with color.
Sometimes, it's a mysterious sweetness in the air, or the extra-silky something in the wind, or the way the whole world seems to momentarily still and hold its breath in anticipation.
Whenever, and however, it comes, you always know "it" is there. Something deep inside thrills and freezes, quivering with the plea to hang on to that feeling forever. You close your eyes, trying to hug time into motionlessness, trying to freeze this moment forever, trying to sear it into your brain, so it will never leave.
But even as you try, you know the moment is slipping, the painful thrill of bliss grows dull, and you open your eyes aware of the beauty, loving it, but mourning the loss of that moment gone by.
What is this feeling? Why does it come - always so unexpected? Why can we not hold on to it?
Is it a glimpse into something deeper, something more beautiful we will know when "someday" becomes "forever"?
Or is just the thrill of a lovely view?