On a cherry-lined road, a boy nestles in the back of his mother’s bicycle. A child’s seat; buckles and handrails braid like a cushioned birdnest. He looks up, mouth agape. Helmet gently pulls his head backward while the straps dangle off his chin. Mind unfurls in a breeze. Gaze adrift in the sea of blush overhead. An April kind of sky. Petals spilling everywhere... An April kind of rain. His mother pedals through a tunnel of trees. Bike wheels breathe out, levitating petals off the ground. An April kind of splash. Part-seeing, part-becoming, cheeks dyed pink – the boy will dream of cherry blossoms tonight. An April kind of dream.
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On the day of our departure, we were greeted by Chris with a beaming smile, returned from his morning run. "Do we have a little time before we leave for the train station?" he asked with a grin. "I want to take you to a special place." As we laced up our shoes, he advised us to empty our pockets and travel light. Overnight, pink petals covered the streets and bushes like a soft blanket.
We arrived at an unassuming entrance by the road. "This," Chris announced, "is a secret garden hidden behind the cherry blossoms." He led us into the park, and I held my breath in wonder. Inside the garden, invisible from the outside world, were more trees, paths, and a river. Chris took the girls further into the garden, while Tanja and I chatted on the boardwalk, staring at the ripples in the water and the way the blossoms gently fell.
"Close your eyes," came the whispers of Abigail and Penelope. We obliged, feeling the soft kiss of petals on our cheeks and necks. Tanja removed her hands from her pockets to give us a hug, and a few petals spilled out. "What a lovely thing to find in your pockets," she mused.
–– and every moment of us together was full of magic like this.
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On the day of our departure, we were greeted by Chris with a beaming smile, returned from his morning run. "Do we have a little time before we leave for the train station?" he asked with a grin. "I want to take you to a special place." As we laced up our shoes, he advised us to empty our pockets and travel light. Overnight, pink petals covered the streets and bushes like a soft blanket.
We arrived at an unassuming entrance by the road. "This," Chris announced, "is a secret garden hidden behind the cherry blossoms." He led us into the park, and I held my breath in wonder. Inside the garden, invisible from the outside world, were more trees, paths, and a river. Chris took the girls further into the garden, while Tanja and I chatted on the boardwalk, staring at the ripples in the water and the way the blossoms gently fell.
"Close your eyes," came the whispers of Abigail and Penelope. We obliged, feeling the soft kiss of petals on our cheeks and necks. Tanja removed her hands from her pockets to give us a hug, and a few petals spilled out. "What a lovely thing to find in your pockets," she mused.
–– and every moment of us together was full of magic like this.