*This was part of a letter that I sent to a good friend of mine after coming through a hard time. It was written just last week in Rexburg, ID where I am attending college at BYU-I.
This is most definitely a happy letter. I’m sitting here in the front room and a cool breeze is blowing in from the open door. It meanders in and lies next to me on the couch. Like a dear friend it caresses my cheek so gently that, were I not to pay attention, I would not have noticed it.
The sky is clear and its brilliant azure expanse is refreshing at best. The sun is smiling down on its dominion. It seems proud- like a father admiring his beautiful daughter. Everything is in full bloom here. The trees are swelling with leafy splendor and their colors are breathtaking- ranging everywhere from bright, happy greens to majestic emeralds. I feel as though the pines would just as soon pick me up and hold me and rock me gently to sleep like my mother used to do.
Spring brings with her a sweet-smelling aroma; pollen carried on the wind to the hills and fields of the valley. My grandmother used to tell me that this was Mother Nature’s way of waking up all her baby flowers after their winter nap. I would tell her that I didn’t care for it much because it tickled my nose and made me sneeze a lot.
Perhaps I have a connection with nature, I think to myself as I lounge serenely. The beauty of such a lovely day almost perfectly reflects the calm and joyous setting in my mind. The storm is gone. The sun, like a hero, has arrived and pushed the clouds away and made me warm and happy.
I, for whatever reason, feel compelled to get up and walk outside. The cool concrete feels good on my bare feet and my hair is tousled by the breeze. I lean against the railing and take in the scene. On a nearby rooftop birds are singing their songs and it feels as if they’ve composed a sweet symphony for me and me only.
No problems, no doubts, no worries. I lean my head back and draw in a mouthful of oxygen. “Thank you.” I whisper. And then, the rays of the sun pour over me and that familiar breeze returns to my side. It brushes my cheek, just as before and finds its way to my ear. A blanket of warmth drapes itself on my shoulders as the breeze whispers to me the most comforting words I’ve ever heard. “I’m proud of you, my son. I love you.”
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