Deep into winter, I sit alone and look out of my window. The snow paints a portrait of beauty and purity and the trees, boney under their frosted cloaks, stand proud against a blue sky. Wrapped in my blanket, I want to see the picture through a child’s eyes: a wonderland, a soft, fluffy, never-ending playground.
I am an adult, and no longer have the privilege or luxury of viewing the world as a child. Instead, what I see through my window is a world that can be harsh and cold. Outside, the plants, bushes, and cloak-wearing trees struggle to keep alive. Flowers fold inward, buried in the ground, to protect themselves until the sun’s warm rays reinvigorate them and coax them back to life.
But not all flowers will reawaken. Their petals will remain closed, and when the snow is gone, there will be an empty spot in the garden, where once it was vibrant with their color, and beauty, and life.
Those precious, fragile flowers will no longer feel the warmth of the sun on their faces. Yes, life will go on, but it will never be the same.
You have graced us with your distinctive beauty, decorated our world through your indelible spirit, and for that I am grateful.
I pray where you are now, it will always be Spring, fragrant with your everlasting bloom, and you will forever find peace.