What a beautiful day. On the wings of freshest exaltation has spring finally flown into the picturesque valley in which I live. Every element announces its return; the birds sing lightly, the wind brushes up gently against everything it meets. Even the hurried hum of the cars outside seems to fade into a rushing reverberation that reminds me of the sea. I love how the sunlight falls through in the mornings, slowly creeping up to the last areas of my neighborhood where it bursts within and illuminates everything in sight. This world is once again mine; this scenery delights and enraptures me, folding me in layer upon layer of seasonal splendor until I feel protected yet strangely exposed.

Today I did the paper route for Mom and Jeff. They’re in southern Utah, running in a marathon. I woke up begrudgingly, bitter at the thought of losing so much precious sleep. What a fabulous time I had, though, carelessly dropping off the papers at each doorstep, whistling the entire time. It was not work; each step came forward to meet me, every house sprung up, ready to be served.

Yes, I am sentimental. At times like this I truly am. I don’t care about walking at graduation or going to dances or the rubbish that plagues many of the minds that surround me, the mawkish and the maudlin. Why would I feel a reaction to any of these man-made incidences? Why would I bother to concern myself with such a thing when I find it so trivial? It is the moments such as the one I’m currently experiencing that lift my heart. I’ll always delight in the right to witness such things.

I have work today, I work lunch and dinner. I’m going to try to go running before, so I leave you now. The birds are beckoning me.