A lone flower rests underneath winter’s bare brambles along Brook Street. Its tiny, blush pink head catches the wandering eyes of passerbys, promising warm days to come, the effervescent chirping of young birds, and a sun-soaked Main Green. Brown students, weary from Providence’s gray skies and malicious, whipping winds, doff their thick coats and heavy boots for flouncy dresses and Easter-inspired Polos.
Meanwhile, the lone bud on Brook pushes through the stubborn dirt with all its might. She gathers strength from the April sun, a beacon of hope to all living things. Like many of us, the little flower dreams of languid sunsets, the scent of blooming magnolias, and warm sidewalks. Soon, she thinks to herself, gently wriggling her tender roots in the soil. Soon.
As the skies shift from slate to cornflower, and the glow of our earth’s life force permeates the cantankerous clouds, take notice of the emergence of colorful rompers, delicate flora, and laughing, sundrenched students on the Main Green. It is April, and we are young – carpe diem.