I remember one Easter when my nephews were small–they grabbed handfuls of cherry blossoms that had fallen from the trees in Nana and Papa’s yard. Jackson and Grant flung the pale pink petals in the air so they floated down to dust baby Jake’s head. We all laughed as the boys sang, “It’s snowing! It’s snowing!” while Jake squealed with joy. That’s been a dozen years ago and I still remember the sound of their laughter and the astonishment I felt at loving these small, new people so keenly.
Isn’t it holy to live in a moment and know that you will remember it for the rest of your life? Cherry blossoms remind me to look up. We are alive, beneath the cherry blossoms.