One of my earliest memories is of Lilies of the Valley. I have two spots in my garden where they grow, purely for sentimental reasons, transplants from my mother's house. Every spring I wait and wait and wait some more for the shy little white bells to appear. The moment I poke my nose down and sniff, I am magically 5 years old, the spring before kindergarten, smelling them for the first time in our garden. We only lived at the "lily" house for a short while, and I can't remember a single other thing about it. But the perfume is so powerful, I can think of nothing else but that day, squatting in the sunshine enjoying my lovely discovery.
Today, finally, weeks later than usual, I found blooms. Living in the moment allowed me to let go of everything else in the blender that is my brain and just be with my flowers. Then I found myself swinging in the hammock chair, forgetting for a moment that I have to be an adult.
My little friend Ava is 5. I think I will have to share this wonder the next time she visits.
May your inner child play freely today.
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