It’s these days.

It was lovely outside yesterday. After a long Chicago winter, you could literally hear a tangible sigh of relief coming from the earth that spring was finally here.


I climbed on my bike and took off, wind blowing my hair around like a friend who had missed me desperately, raking its breezy fingers through my hair. Around the corner, up the hill, narrowly missing a pothole. Some 5th graders in the throes of soccer practice, running around wildly.


I laughed aloud, and suddenly I couldn’t stop laughing, the sheer joy of it all swelling up in me like a tidal wave. I let go of the handlebars and let the wind force my fingers open, palms turned upward.


It’s these days, when I arrive in the driveway tired and dusty and happy. It’s these days that make life worth living.



It’s these days that make me wish I could hug the entire world. Because on the days when it’s dark and raining, I close my eyes and remember the spring breeze and the sun’s kiss, and I remember that nothing lasts forever. The sun will rise again.



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