It was springtime of 2010 when I first saw the Cherry Blossoms in bloom, and every year since then, I have eagerly anticipated its brief annual sojourn, an event that would be enough to forget the painstakingly long winter that has just passed.
The way they come out is certainly magical by itself - a symphony in allegretto - dazzling, swift and fleeting. It's intense and vibrant blossoms commanding the attention of any spectator who would always be tempted to stop and admire its transient glory. Because once the delicate flowers are blown away by the wind, they would quickly scatter around the ground, a fading resplendence that is here today and gone tomorrow. But the memories in the hearts that it has touched would linger long afterwards.
There is always a sense of melancholy that is evoked by Cherry Blossoms, its sweet brevity marked by such intense beauty followed by a quick death is a gentle reminder of mortality, that life can be given and taken at any minute. But its subsequent blossoming in spring also allows us to hope and dream, that although life may not be ours for long it is still ours to leave a mark that would be remembered.
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