I would wake up to that fresh scent of the morning air floating in through the window, and then rush outside to accidentally get my shoes wet with the morning dew on a summer weekend. It's what made me happy. Fresh cut flowers for grandma and the birds chirping gleefully as I chased them around the yard. When the world was full of color and wonder.

The gardens full of life, the bold color of the flowers, the creeping of the clovers, and the croaking of the toads never allowed a dull moment. I would spend hours bounding through these gardens looking for anything I could make a bouquet out of. I would search through the colorful jungle of stems and twigs just to find worms and other insects I found interesting. When I did manage to find an adequate flower I would run and grab my kid scissors with the dog racing next to me. Once I found them in the kitchen drawer, I slowly walked back to pick the flowers I thought were the best. I would gently hold the bud and clip just below the first few leaves hoping it would keep the flower alive just a few days longer.

As evening rolled around, the energy I had at the start of the day had begun to seep away. I would walk outside again to watch the sky effortlessly put on a spectacle always different than the night before, the stars shifting, the clouds racing. I would listen to the crickets and watch the fireflies light up in their excitement. I would truly feel this joy for the rest of my life, I was always left in awe of what show was performing before me. As the night came to an end, I dragged myself upstairs, glancing at the flowers in a vase on the kitchen countertop, brushed my teeth, closed my window, and drifted off into sleep.