The breeze through my window

Sometimes it pours rain on your carefully choreographed outdoor wedding. Sometimes someone you love dies at night in a car on a road. Sometimes you look back at your life and think you have nothing to show, or that you didn't get the right kind of love, and sometimes a warm breeze blows through your apartment and imposes onto you all of the day's beauty whether you like it or not. Sometimes your mother gently points out how vulnerable you are, and even though she's telling you not to change, you can't help wishing you could. Sometimes all you can do is wait for something to shift, something to make it bright again, smell sweet again, like that smell when you walk past the markets in the city--the smell of Hyacinth and Lilacs; a reminder that sometimes just being alive is worth all of it.