A lifetime ago, I skipped my way through spring and ran toward summer, arms open wide. My hands in the dirt, anxiously waiting for those little green sprouts to peak up through the brown dirt. My excitement about growing things and being outside in the sun knew no bounds.
That was a lifetime ago, in my new life, I run toward summer, but there is a sharp pain in my chest. I push on; I love this time of year. My heart hurts. I stop and take a deep breath; the pain does not go away. I push on, skipping, running. The pain is still there. I push on.
I want to love summer in the carefree way I always have, but the reality is that I will never again skip through spring and run toward summer in the same way. There will always be the pain.
In this new life I continue to look at the amazing things that spring and summer bring with a sense of awe and wonder; the sounds of hummingbird wings, the smell of honeysuckle, and the feel of the sun on my shoulders. I will still skip and run, but the wonder of summer is tempered by the pain in my heart, in this . . . my new life.