I write tonight next to my open window, caressed by summer wind laced with the scent of rain. Lightning illuminates me every few minutes, covering my body with a bluish tinge for a heartbeat before expending itself, leaving me again in the yellowish hue of my lamp. I love this time of year—it is what I wait for from the first day temperatures drop to unbearable. It is the only thing that propels me through winter with good spirits. I rely on the spring every year. It revitalizes me, rejuvenates me. The morning I wake up, walking to class in jeans and sandals, and see the grass shining emerald under the sun, trees dusted in newborn blooms I experience a moment of complete happiness. As I stand on the street, staring out at the landscape of Illinois I forget my allergies, I forget my studies, I forget my life. I breathe the air, cleaned through constant rain and take off my sunglasses, amazed at the vibrant colors and I’m not sorry to be in Macomb. I don’t regret a single choice in my life. For that instant, with that first awareness of spring with the music of wind and the cleansing of rain my life is justified. No matter what I have done or not done I am part of something greater. I am part of something purer. Long after I’ve died spring will come again and again and every time, a part of my soul will bloom with it. That is why I love spring. That is why I will never live somewhere seasons don’t change. Without the yearly reminder of nature rising life would drone on, monotone and boring.

Nights like this I’m more then happy to be alive. Nights like this I’m thankful.