My childhood memories are always of summer -- riding my bike and playing with the neighborhood kids all day, then coming home to see my mother putting the red and white checked cloth on the picnic table in our back yard so we could all eat outside. My grandmother was usually there.
One day in particular when I was about 10, it was windy and the flowers from our cherry tree were getting blown off. I stood in the backyard with my arms outstretched and face uplifted to the sun while the soft petals rained down on me. In that moment, I felt such pure joy in living.
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