Walking through my neighborhood on spring and summer months, I am always surprised and romanced by the unexpected delights that come during this time of year. The smells of burning charcoal and backyard cookouts, the laughter of neighborhood children uncorked for the first time after long winters indoors, and the chatter emanating from the sidewalks where neighbors' walks extend from the obligatory treks to take out the dog to long appreciative strolls.
What is it about this time of year that gives us fresh eyes to see the opportunity of an evening away from obligation, fresh ears that hear promising words of encouragement instead of critique, fresh nostrils to breathe in the sweet, green scents of new life and a new season?
Sitting with friends over dinner one night, I was struck by the thought of the simple contentment and happiness we were giving each other-just by our mutual presence. There is no thing greater than the pleasure of things that cannot be constructed with only intent and desire; the things with which we are blessed and given, but cannot create.
Friendship, family, love-these are things as organic and miraculous as the complex circumstances required for a gorgeous sunset or the growth of a blade of grass. A tilt of the earth that, a degree more, could be catastrophic, the parting of clouds that all day may have threatened and hid the sun that, given the chance might cruelly have shone down during long noon hours-all these things make the most brilliant farewell to a day.
Often forged out of the hard times, the result of experiencing fervent love for a friend is so breathtakingly beautiful it more than pays the price for the long, hard winter that may have preceded it, and should never be taken for granted. Not one single evening sunset, not one single friend or family member.
Like the fleeting moments of a beautiful summer evening, the blessings of our life may not always last as long as we'd like but the greatest pleasure is derived not from their memory but from the enjoyment of those wondrous things in the very moment which we posses them.
I am a summer person-and if we admit it, aren't we all? Don't we all love the ease and comfort of a season in our lives that beckons with promise of more time, of more laughter, of more love better than a time that threatens with fickle weather and experience? Perhaps, but it is those winters cold in our lives that helps us appreciate the spring.