The happy memories come as spring blooms, only ever needing an invitation from the sun.
The happy memories that nurture are forever the simple, the humble and everyday, the things that mother earth and heaven bestow.
Soft guitar music, the aroma a new loaf rising in the hot oven, and the sweet smile of my lover... happy memories have a way of saving when nothing else can.
The happy memory comes as divine deja vu, sitting in my synapses for a moment and resetting my mood to sunny days ahead.
White bells fill the meadows under a sun that beckons them to grow strong and beautiful. I can see them now, as if I were back in that time, in those early days of the renaissance.
The happy memory comes as a welcome stranger through the door, suddenly present and lighting up the room with a smile.
It is the happy memories that sustain us, that carry us through the challenging times of loss, and remind us that our loving was important and worthwhile.
With a carefree talent that echoes the joy of nature herself, the bird swoops toward the grass with a confidence that makes it a camera flash moment, a tiny fraction of time that etches itself into the happy memories.
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