I Say Sunshine

“Today is your day to dance lightly with life. It really is.” ―Jonathan Huie

I feel sorry for real adults. I mean, I can call myself an adult all day long, but at the end of the day, I’m not quite there yet, and that’s okay with me. Because you know what almost-adults get? Spring break. And spring break and I have a long history of getting on just fine.

That was spring break 2010, but this spring break was no different. Well, alright, it was a little different, but that’s the thing about spring break. You’ve spent so many days literaturing and writing and editing and waking-up-early-to-dash-to-work-ing that any sort of pause is the right kind of pause. But this spring break wasn’t just a pause; it was a blessing, a brilliant dip in the pool of rest.

You may remember that I spent the first half taking care of one afflicted littlest buddy, and trust me, caging an eight-year-old boy in a house while bright spring blooms outside is not really ideal. But there was a lot of good in it: For one thing, I got to introduce him to Saved by the Bell. If the rest of spring break was a bust, I can rest well knowing that I broadened his horizons right back into 1998. Life was simpler then (I was, after all, seven years old. Life doesn’t get too complicated until you hit double digits.)

I myself had a mighty fine time hanging out with my mum and eating my parents’ Cinnamon Toast Crunch and watching Netflix and so on and so forth. What more is there to say about a whole lot of nothing except for that it is simultaneously a whole lot of wonderful?

On Wednesday of spring break week, I heard a voice calling my name. You see,  a (best) friend on mine had experienced a (very) big moment and my heart was leaping toward her as the hours ticked by. Finally, the time came for me to throw my bags in the back of Maddie the Xterra and hit the road with Oswald and a whole lotta joy; let me tell you, it has never been more difficult to (mostly) abide by the speed limit and not simply sprout wings and fly myself to the lake, but I managed it. I owe it all to my seat belt, methinks.

I could make that drive with my eyes closed, but I chose not to since there’s no telling what might have happened to that poor Jeep if I had. And then I got to see my most lovely friend, the girl with whom I’ve done life for the past three—hey, when did we get old?—years. I got to hug her and jump up and down and all of that joy I’d been holding in and came right down on her in the form of squeals and tears. Moreover, other equally splendid people began to arrive and each moment seemed better than the last. First, we ate some cheese (something I find noteworthy, but then again, I’ve been on a cheese kick. If you’re lactose-intolerant [Hi, Tabitha!], feel free to gloss over that tidbit.) Then, we played some games. We got some sleep and awoke to the best weather ever. In the history of spring breaks. I kid you not. I could absolutely not get over it, and I hope I’m mesmerized all spring long by the beauty of it.

I mean, check out the clouds on that sky! We went canoeing, picnicked on an island, napped on the couch, ate strawberry shortcake, and reveled in the beauty of such perfect moments overlapping and swallowing us up to the soundtrack of James Taylor. It was the kind of day that just grows you, you know? The kind of day that makes you happier and glowier and about a million time gigglier, too.

Just in case we weren’t totally convinced that the Lord was for us, we got Friday: sunning, joking, fishing, reading, celebrating, dancing, singing, hugging, blessing, playing, loving.

See, there is a time for everything, says the Lord in Ecclesiastes 3. This week was a time to plant, to heal, to build up, to laugh, to dance, to embrace. This week was all of this and more, an overwhelming gift of sweet carefree joy. Like Psalm 16:9 says, “No wonder my heart is glad and I rejoice!”

I know that the next six weeks of the semester will come hard and fast. There will be lists of tests to be studied for, papers to be written, articles to be edited, poems to be analyzed, alarm clocks to be subject to, errands to be run, and so on and so forth. Summer will come so soon that we look around and wonder when, exactly, we became seniors and where, exactly, three whole years of college went, and who, exactly, we’re supposed to be when all of this is over. I’ll tell you who they want us to be: adults. But people, adults don’t get spring break. So while I have it, I will pause. I will smile. I will dance. And I will tuck that joy into my back pocket for the weeks to come.


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