Drifting to spring

The rain pelts the ground around me as the memories flood back from an older age. Green grass and vibrant trees stretched out in all directions, the sky was light gray and rain poured from the heavens. The cold had been banished and the spring finally arrived. The sights and smells of spring triggered memories of ages passed, pictures, sights and smells from experiences rushed through my head like a flood.

I followed the valley of green to a great rushing river, which opened into a waterfall. Water cascaded down the rocks like laundry being pushed down a flight of stairs. People said water was graceful but sometime it looked like stampeding house cats trying to get out of their own way.

I felt invigorated by the clean, crisp air and the sound of rushing water. It was as if every Spring I had experienced was linked together through my memories. Like punching a hole through the corner of a thousand photographs and running a string through the hole. Each picture would be separated but strung together by such a small thread.

The weather had always been tied to my memories, the smell of damp earth and the feel of chilly air on my skin always brought me back to spring. The visual marvel of green trees and colorful flowers stand out in my mind like a picture held in time.

The rain beat down like a steady drum and I keep returning to that place, I return to the Spring. My eyes drift to the window in my bedroom to see snow and cold and my mind takes me to back to the Spring.