I am a calm spring morning that welcomes the sun into a faint lilac sky. I breathe in the dew that gently rests on the baby blades of grass. I see through the eyes of each bluebird chirping her day's first hello while I await the surprises that the world surely holds in store.
I wander through rainbow gardens and linger to feel the sun's fingertips paint my face with rosiness. Lily of the Valley whispers hello from my guardian angel. She's still watching over me after 6 long years; I just know it. The tulips stand tall, reminding me that I am my father's daughter and must live up to my name. Pansies, impatiens, and English daisies release a flood of memories: most of my mom and I weeding side by side.
It's safe to say the garden is my second home. The soft dirt a comfortable pillow beneath my head and the blue sky a safe ceiling up above. The fragrant medley of aromas please my senses and I quietly plead for the flowers to live and bloom beyond their upcoming expiration dates. Their resilience is heroic as they brave spring showers and gusts of the breeze. They bloom right where planted and don't fight death's welcoming veil. It is through them, that perhaps I have begun to recognize the beauty of life and peacefulness of its end.
The day moves on and now calls for the playfulness of the afternoon. No longer willing to sit back and take in my surroundings I stop at the strawberry field. I bask in the brightness of day and twirl through the red-spotted fields. The berrylicious smell beckons me and I enjoy each scrumptious bite. Strawberries have always been my favorite. Their bright red personality and sweet taste is truly one of its own. Maybe I've inherited my stubbornness from the hundreds of sassy strawberries that have kissed my lips on many a spring morn. Who knows, it could happen?
I live in the serenity of perpetual spring; always trying to keep its spark alive in my eyes. Sometimes, it fades as the sweltering heat of summer calls for crazy chaos. At other moments the dimming of the sun in autumn makes time speed up and turn into a whirlwind of forgetfulness. Winter has a mind of its own often requiring that I just wake up and make it through the day. Life has its seasons and I prefer mine to be spring when I feel most alive. Even in the chaos of summer, the lost time of autumn, and depression of winter, I somehow always find a way to light that spark. Maybe it's because I was born on a lovely May day, so in the deep recesses of my brain I remember the happiness of my heavenly home that I left that spring. Or maybe it's my ability to keep on hoping and believing in a better day when it seems their are none left. Even spring has its gloomy rainy days, but the sun always comes out shining a little bit brighter. I guess that's why I am spring because after each rain shower I come back a little stronger and with a little more hope.
