My father passed away nearly five years ago, and I am truly grateful for the memories I have of him.

As I walked to school this morning, I noticed some forsythia and recalled early spring occasions over several years during my youth. My father would be driving me and my brother somewhere on a Saturday morning–perhaps baseball tryouts–and he would say, “The forsythia is out.” This made a particular impression on me because he had no particular interest in flowers or plants. Evidently, he found it significant, and I suspect he enjoyed the arrival of spring.

I savored this memory this morning perhaps because I remember my father in connection with big things, small things, and many in between.

I am as pleased as he would have been at the arrival of spring.

I am participating in the Two Writing Teachers March 2024 Slice of Life Challenge.