And the fragrance of the air as the bravest tulips peek their heads about the still-frozen beds?
Do you remember the groggy feeling of your mother's fingers on your back in the morning, her off-key singing weaving into dream?
The ecstasy of ripe mango, fresh-squeezed pineapple juice?
Can you remember the flakes falling gracefully as you lay in a mountain of powder, your cheeks rosy with the brisk cold?
The first note of Beethoven and the pause of time, the tears puddling in your ears?
The intimacy of hushed conversation in darkest hours of the night, the birth of new friendship?
The quiet of the mountain pines mid-winter, the majesty of untrodden snow?
Do you recall the euphoria of spontaneous dance, the wild thrum of your heart as voices raise in unison?
Can you still feel the thrill of learning and the muted exuberance of new curiosity?
Does your body remember the exhaustion of a book read to the wee hours of the morning and the despair of the last page?
We forget so much, we grow so tired. These experiences are fewer and less frequent. And yet, our humanity is here, in the moments where our soul quietly flutters and goosebumps arise. Our life is constructed of tiny moments, the gentle nudge of our intuition and the soaring of the soul. We forget to pay attention. We are too busy, we are too loud.
But still, the world whispers away ceaselessly, tirelessly, reminding us that life is beauty, companionship, and grace every bit as much as it is grief and pain and violence. The world welcomes us and beauty greets us with arms outstretched. We are here to grieve and we are here to sing. Every challenge will be met with moments of unceasing grace. And every winter will be followed with the courage of the first bud of spring. We are here to feel it all to the marrow of our bones and to remember in the darkness the intoxication of breath, the thrum of heartbeat, and the wonder of a million tiny, beautiful things.
