It feels like Friday long before you open your eyes, a day for fancy and whims, not for following a rat race run. So you stumble through the to do list, spend more of the day staring out the window to the cool sunshine a petal-snowed breezes. Count minutes until happy hours, until it's time to cross the river and feel that part of you realign as it only does on the island. Like you're always holding your breath just a little until you return to it. Spring always held such hope, you revel in it.
You should revel in it, you know. You should let your imagination run away with you and your whimsy get the better of every turn. It's April now, it's spring now, you survive a whole year just to live in this moment, and it's not lost on you.
You ask so often from gifts from the Universe.
Don't you see they're in front of you?
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