It’s this. Sudden wind blowing through the Japanese Snowbell tree before it blooms. Greenery bouncing cheerily on the invisible current as I watch from my window wondering how a tree can be so gracious even amidst such changes in the weather.
It is splinters in the tender pillow inside of my left knuckle from pulling weeds out of the bark mulch in the front yard. It’s the drooping sadness that hangs in the silence; The peach pit in my stomach.
It’s this. The scent of wildflower honey and oats wafting up from the kitchen. It’s peering through my memories to recall a moment of joy and letting it fill my cells with life.
It’s knowing the tree will bloom and the wind will pause and the rain will fall and time will go on…