How strange it is that the smell of mandarin oranges can suddenly and abruptly bring you back to a hot February afternoon sitting in the kitchen with the sunlight all around. You are laughing at each other and the orange segments that were in your hand burst with glad sweetness on the tongue.

It must have been 4 years ago. The smile it brings to your face is carelessly joyful and unbidden, fleeting even as you pause over the sink dulling the smell of your sticky hands with water running clean and clear.

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In that memory, dear one, you remain as fresh and evocative as ever. Springtime is you no matter your age.