Cherry Blossoms

Every spring my grandmother takes me to see the cherry blossoms in the park near her house. We've done it every year since I was four.

When I was little, I ran around trying to catch the petals as they fell. When I was a teenager, I grumbled about getting up early on a Saturday. Now I'm twenty-six, and it's my favorite day of the whole year.

We bring a blanket, a thermos of tea and her famous rice balls. We sit under the same tree. She tells me the same stories about her childhood, and I listen like it's the first time.

The blossoms only last about a week. My grandmother says that's what makes them beautiful: "If they stayed forever, nobody would come to look."

I think about that a lot. The moments that don't last are the ones we should stop for. This year, I'm bringing my fiancé. Next year, maybe more of us.