“I see some flowers!” I shout while pointing out of the car's passenger side window to Lovie in the back seat. “There’s some more! Do ya see them?”
“Yeah! I see the flowers! I love flowers, Mama!”
“I know baby,” I smile.
“I love Spring!” she giggles.
“Me too, baby.”
|from last April- outside of Oma's house|
I wasn’t always a fan of Spring. To me, it’s kind of ugly. Everything is generally dirty looking with specks of brightness from the new flowers. Until those flowers bloom though… yuck. Plus I hate warm(er) weather. I’m happy with 60 or below. But with Lovie’s excitement and wonderment of “is it still Spring today?”, I can’t help but get excited when I see some flowers sprouting out amidst the funk of Winter's closing. I can’t help but to fall in love with Spring.
Besides all that, Spring
is was Oma’s favorite time of year. She loved the flowers. The trees. The
grass. The birds chirping. She loved every bit of Spring. And so does Lovie.
And, honestly, I can’t even explain how happy that makes me.
It’s little moments like this when I have to wonder if Lovie wasn’t given to me to help me through this time in life; she reminds me SO much of my Oma. Always has.
I’m so very lucky to have her.
I'm so very lucky to have had them both.
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