The Perfect Spring

I love spring.  Always have.

Spring

As winter waned, I was the little girl on the playground searching every crack and crevice for the first dandelion bloom.  That’s how I knew it was coming.

I love how the winter drips away.  How early spring rains wash away the grays and browns.  How you look out your window one day and spot tiny buds pushing out the ends of the tree branches.

DewdropsOur Sweet P was born in the spring.  Fresh green leaves just peppering the trees.  Grass growing thick and green, nourished by late winter rains.

Behind our little apartment is a lush, dark wood winding along the train track.  Brown and spindly, during the winter.

But one tree erupts in an explosion of white at the first sign of warmer days.

And that’s how it was when we brought our baby girl home.  Almost like snow.

I remember sitting on our couch with my fed, sleeping baby resting in my arms.  Weary from long nights.  Overwhelmed by the housework that never seemed to be done.  When I looked out at that tree.

Through the open windows I could smell the freshness of spring.  I could hear the early birds chirping happily.  And when I closed my eyes and took a deep breathe, all I could think was how thankful I was that our girl came into our lives… in the Spring.

Back then, I dreamed of days like today.  Dandelion

Playing ball in the grass.  Eating picnics on our patio.  Watering new buds of vegetables in our garden.  Watching ants march across the dirt.  I imagined open windows.  The smell of cut grass.  The cool breeze.  Clipping fresh herbs from the pot on our front step.  Dancing under a cloudless sky.

This year we have had an extended spring.  That means more cool shadows fluttering over chalk-drawn sidewalks.  More warm sunlight shimmering in the morning dew.  More days like these.

Days when all the world melts away.

Days with my girl.

I’ve heard that heaven is like an eternal Spring.  All things new and vibrant and full of life.  Wide, warm smiles.  Laughter.  If I could freeze moments like this, I think I would be there already.  Heaven.  Home.

The Perfect Spring.

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