"The road to enlightenment is long and difficult, and you should try not to forget snacks and magazines." 

— Anne Lamott (Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith)

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I tuck the potted bulbs into the cart next to the lettuce and eggs. Their blooms are, for the most part, closed up tight, and the anticipation I feel about watching them unfold brings me joy. Once home I place them on the dining room table and take note every time I walk by. It does not take long for them to reveal their beauty. In a few days the blooms are so heavy I have to intervene with a chopstick to help them stay upright. Their scent surrounding me as I move the stems gently.

I wake today with a bit of nostalgia, along with remorse. A yearning within me that I really can’t put my finger on, yet feels so familiar. I don’t question these feelings or wonder what is wrong with me as I use to, but rather sit with them in kindness. Understanding that wishing for do-overs is unhealthy.

Instead I take my morning coffee to the dining room table and watch the light of the day unfold over the lake . . . surrounded by the fragrance of spring.