The other day, I smelt lilac for the first time this year.
That was a good day.
There is a row of lilac bushes that I pass on my way to campus.
Last spring, walking past them daily became one of life's simple pleasures.
And when the cold crawled in and they died, I said to myself,
"The next time I see those bloom,
it will be spring,
and good things will happen."
I don't like to walk past them without stopping to inhale.
I feel like I'm wasting a precious chance.
The frailty of spring weighs on me a bit.
More often than most people, probably, I wonder which sense I would give up if I had to give up one.
Usually I say smell because sight and sound are too precious to me.
But I'm glad that I can smell lilac.
I'm glad to live in this beautiful world
Heavenly Father created for me.