I remember the first time I got dazzled by the spectacular view of cherry trees blooming in the spring. Blossoms filled the air with their delicate scent and there were flowers, flowers as far as the eye could see. My little house, next to an orchard, was a blessing. I could enjoy the show in the comfort of my living room, or doing the dishes, looking through the small window above the sink.
It was peaceful.
Still today I live close to cherry trees, but this time the term "peaceful" takes a whole different meaning. Though the Park is right on the other side of the street, there's a 10 minute walk and hundreds of people between me and the pretty blossoms. Everyone is waiting for their turn under the shade of the branches covered with white and pink. Everyone is dressed as they are going to Sunday church; their clothes are nice and tidy, their hair done, their teeth white, and they all take poses beside the quiet and tall models.
After 4 years of living in a big city I've learnt to share my precious loneliness with others. They don't talk but they are there, constantly in my sight, constantly reminding me that I am never really alone. It doesn't bother me so much anymore.
As I walked back I could see some of the girls barefooted. I guess there's just so much your feet can endure in heels.
A constant smile was following me during my little adventure, different thoughts also, all peaceful. The gloomy faces of Toronto streets disappeared, transformed by the quietness of the Park, the smell of the wild flowers and the new carpet of green grass after a long winter.
How I miss British Colombia.
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