four seasons

strappy sandals begin their prowl. tanktops peak out from behind their once-worn collared shirts. sunglasses become a necessity, not an accessory. rainbows once again become the staple. windows roll down to let the springtime breeze in as the heat fades away from within. dogwoods bloom and tulips ripen to the freshest shade.

springtime is in the air.

without a doubt, spring is my favorite season. i love the scent of blooming flowers and the sight of budding trees almost more than i do admiring my freshly manicured toes peaking out from my trendy new shoes. it is a season of happiness, where the world awakens from the dead as if to say "everything is going to be better this time around." it is a season of renewal, where that which once faded away begins again with glee.

as i sit this pre-spring afternoon in mcalisters deli, outside the sun is shining and the trees are waking. inside, the guests sit and talk with one another -- some business professionals, others just friends making casual conversation. young moms are doing their daily rountine, toting around young children while their older ones are still being schooled. yet, everyone seems happy. in line, people are laughing. beside me, an older man dons his new cell phone to his equally aged counterparts. as the symphony blares through his ringtone, he beams as he informs them the notion of a ringtone no longer being a simple ring. as if he is the inventor of the modified ringtone himself, he prides in his "new" technology. and directly across from me, watching my every move, sit alex and allison -- two ever-so-precious blonde hair, blue eyes twins. as they sit across from one another eating their peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and sipping their hi-c, they continue to look over here and smile. "helloooooooooooooooooooooooooooo" they call out as if i am their long-lost friend. when i respond, their faces light up.

a stranger has just become a friend.

casually, we continue to make funny gestures and simple conversation throughout their entire lunch. as i sit and type, i watch their little faces discover their world around them. new to life still, you can tell they are taking everything in as if they are invincible and the world is perfect. another stranger walks by, and little alex stares up at him with his big blue eyes and turns his head with every step of the man. then catching eye contact with his sister, they both begin to chuckle.

four years old and three feet small, these two children encompass everything i wish i could still be. innocent, where everything you do it is not your fault. lovable, where the only thing anyone can do is look at you and smile. childish, where eye contact with another makes you laugh and smile. precious, where imperfections become your perfection. fragile, where your heart can be broken and mended within a split second. unaware, where everything you see and do is completely new. impressionable, where your mind is still formulating its capacity. simple, where being in the moment is the only moment you know exists.

instead, i sit here this afternoon at the crossroads of my life. within nine short weeks, i will close the life that i have only known to begin one that i have never even tasted. like a young adult caught up in love, confused by society and tainted by the world, my mind battles constantly the decisions soon to come. instead of living in the moment, rising with the morning sun and waking with the day, i live wondering whether the next step is really the best one to take. two steps forward seems to lead to four steps backward. a decision made crushes another dream. a dream followed pierces reality.

at what point do we stop living for the life we want to live in the moment we have?

for alex and allison, looking up at the things unknown brought laughter to their lives. for me, looking up at the things unknown brings fear, anxiety and worry. yet like seasons, all things will come together. trees bloom, leaves fall, seeds are planted, trees root. in the now, the life i once knew has fallen away in shades of orange, red and yellow and been buried underneath the tall oak trees. yet, as i look outside, small buds begin to emerge, the daffodils begin to bloom and life again, goes on.

as alex and allison jump down from their booster seats and grab their mom's hand, they both look back over at me and say good-bye. "see you next time," alex says as he turns his head and waves good-bye. again, their eyes catch one another's and they laugh as they walk away.

one day, they too will grow-up and find this world unbearable. they will lose the simpleness and fragileness they once obtained, to find themselves searching for answers amongst their tainted, impressionable lives. my hope for them is but one simple wish: that they too, would look to the seasons and see the sight of the blooming trees.

as their life begins ... so i wait on mine to blossom.