It smells like spring rain, and that’s a smell I almost forgot. Always do, until I catch a whiff of it, in March. And it smells glorious. Like rich, clean dirt; like foggy mountains; like new leaves growing and turning green from the tiny red ones.
It just smells like spring. It was warm, so warm that in the sunshine, I was hot – but the rain has cooled us off now. Not much – just enough to where we’re comfortable again. A breeze drifts in my windows, and I smell spring and feel spring. The birds are chirping and the tractors are driving past and I hear spring. If I went outside to catch the cool drops of water on my warm skin, flushed from doing chores in the warmth, I would feel spring too.
Oh, it’s a beautiful feeling we have every year; when it’s warm and sunny and slightly windy, and I remember what spring feels like. Every spring is different, but it’s all the same. I watch it turn green outside, and I can finally wear just a tee shirt and not be cold. It’s wonderful. It’s glorious. And oh, how I miss it every winter. Long for it. Wait for it.
It’s finally here. And as I breathe it in, memories flood through my veins, memories of taking my schoolbooks down to sit on a picnic blanket under the old oak tree and do my work. Memories of planting year after year, laughter ringing out. I laugh loudly, too loudly sometimes.
Spring is a season of laughter, and everything is new again. It’s the same…but this year, it’s different.
This year it’s different for everyone.
But somehow, it still feels the same. Engrained in my soul, I remember spring, and I flashback to year after year. It’s a comforting ritual that reminds us of sameness, of stability. Because no matter what happens, spring will still come. God will bring it just the same, just like He keeps the sun rising and setting.
Even when the world is crumbling, spring will still come. God is still good. Remember that, okay?
Remember it. For me, for you, and for everyone else.