Spring Fever.

This spring has been significantly more rainy and grey than any spring I can remember, but it has certainly felt incredibly sunny. I keep forgetting my umbrella at home, but it almost doesn't matter, even if my overly processed hair does take a turn for the frizzy. My strides are long (thank you, platforms) and cheery and I'm eager to take the next step. Maybe the sunshine is coming from my generally positive attitude or the influx of sparkly things in my life (blame a little bit of birthday indulgence, here and there - oh, to be 26), or a visit from my unconditionally loving parents, or the presence of peonies bursting from the entrances of New York City's delis and bodegas. Maybe it's the extra time spent outdoors, on my bike or at the waterfront or on café patios sipping cool gin cocktails and slurping back fresh seasalty oysters. Indeed, it could also be my weekend visits to Smorgasburg or the Brooklyn Flea, and the many, many friends and co-conspirators and relics from my past that I keep bumping into and having impromptu catch-up sessions with, all while I impulsively purchase mason jars in colors like the sea and the sky. Or, getting lost just several miles from my home and playing tourist in my own town with a certain someone on my arm. Then, it could be immersing myself into new creative endeavors and projects, and being continually inspired and renewed by my mentors and colleagues at Marie Claire.
Or, perhaps, it's the very literal feeling of warmth and affection and endearment that's getting to me in a way that is hard to express out loud, or in words, or in any manner at all that does it justice. I promised myself not to be overly cryptic, but let me just say, sometimes allowing yourself to stop thinking and lean into it (whatever it is,) is the best gift you could give yourself. It's likely a combination of all of the above, and the bright colors saturating this crazy, bustling metropolis, but that last bit? Overwhelmingly taking the cake.
Mmm, cake.