Sisters,

I miss you. I wish you were here. You could share my springtime with me. A few years ago, someone gave me a flower and told me that I was going to bloom. It has taken long enough, but, finally, she is right.

I must be the luckiest woman in the world to have two springtimes. Or is that the way it was with you? You must tell...

Did you hold the sun in your hands,

whisper your secrets to the wind,

slip your tongue to the rain that ravished your face...

Or did you burst like a thundercloud

and share your radiance with a dry, thirsty land?

Or did you float with joy as silky dandelion seeds

and pick up dust and learning along the way?

Where did you arrive?

Who met you?

I begin today.