When thoughts of spring pass through my mind,
I try to think of sunnier moments.
Of the trip to Virginia Beach,
of the sweet laughs shared
with even sweeter friends.
I try to think of when my dad would swing my hand
as we crossed the street,
or when school would get out
and I would opt for walking home
because the breeze felt nice against my skin.
There are times, though,
when the sun is not warming my cheeks,
when the clouds come in
and the rain seems to never cease.
These memories are bitter.
My last high school musical being canceled
due to an illness none of us knew the severity of
until it was too late.
The breakup that came a week later
that left me sobbing in my dad’s
worn-down chair
for hours upon hours,
heart aching in a way I could barely describe now.
The thing with spring, though,
is that the clouds always part.
The sun trickles through again,
drying my tears,
wrapping me in a warm glow,
the breeze whispering in my ears
you are going to be okay.
The gentle memories always come right back to me
their sweet warmth wrapping me up tight
and reminding me that spring is known both
for its rain
and its flowers.