Reminders

This morning the vibrantly vivacious tulips remind me that life is meant to blaze with beauty. The magnolia trees remind me to pause and consider their sweet intoxicating petals as they fall softly and solemnly upon the inviting grass from which they bloom. The daffodils tilt their thirsty faces towards the sun to remind me to soak in the light upon my own insatiably yearning spirit. "Feel it," they offer. "Let it devour you." I listen carefully to their advice, these wild and wise ornaments of the earth.

This morning I spent two hours at the DMV renewing my license. I was reminded of the first time I had stood in that very spot waiting to take my learner's permit test, an anxious girl of sixteen embarking on her first big milestone in the long journey towards adulthood. How different I was then. How different everything was then. Seven years later I stood upon that same square of sidewalk and reminded myself of how far I've come. Sometimes looking back is the only way to prove to oneself that things have moved forward.

Two geese flew over head, mirror images of one another, reminding me that no one should have to go through this life alone. I was the only one to look up, to follow them across the sky until they drifted completely out of sight into the unknown. No one else noticed this priceless flight, this precious moment of beauty and understanding and love. No one else even considered the depths of meaning rising and falling with their four wings flapping in perfect unison. I was reminded of how differently we all approach this world, of how minds made of the same matter can somehow work so disparately, of how flowers blooming from the same soil can hold such unique scents and secrets within the core of their blossoms.

It is my mother's 55th birthday today and so I went over to spend some quality time discussing life over coffee, a pastime I have inherited love for from my mother. We talked about my new house and my upcoming five year high school reunion. We talked about our old house and memories from my days in school. We talked about a history I can only know through my mother and about a present that we are learning to know together. We gleamed over thoughts for the future and giggled over anecdotes from the past. I was reminded of my mother's wisdom and her strength and the way her friendship means more to me than anything else ever could. I was reminded that I am my mother's daughter and of how proud that makes me. I was reminded of how easy it is to find heros in the people we love.

The scent of barbeque wafts through my open windows. I rub my naked toes against each other. It may just be spring, but summer is already beginning to tease us as only summer can. "Soon," she whispers on the soft wind. I smile at her flirtatious taunting.

I dream of things to come. In eleven days we go to settlement and the house will be officially ours, keys in hand, delight in hearts. I've already begun packing and thinking of places to set things. But more than that, more than the physical placement of inanimate objects, I have been thinking towards this new beginning, this new life for myself. A life filled with gardening and cooking and parties. A life with neighbors and a roommate and a home to fill as I please. A life brimming with opportunity and possibility and exquisite joy. I am reminded of how blessed I am in this life. I am reminded of how truly magnificent it is simply to be alive.

The flowers look towards the sky and remind me to grow. Two geese fly by and remind me to love. My mother holds me and reminds me to be grateful. I immerse myself in my dreams and remind myself to blaze with the beauty of life.

I stand under the sun, waiting and willing. I let it devour me.