There is something so familiar about the smell of pollen in summer. The gentle tickling of the wind on my skin. The way the golden afternoon hour makes time slow down. My heart longing for more. The grass and the trees and the vibrancy of the world stirs something inside me. Coaxes it gently. Softly sets it free. Unshackled. Unbound. I move through the world, and the world moves through me. My lungs are full of air. Fresh, aching breath. And I don’t know how to describe this feeling but

I Am Alive.