Inside the snowglobe

May.  It must have been early May because all of the crabapple trees were in bloom.  It was one of those spring days pregnant with the promise of summer warmth, but still too early to signal a real change in season.  Despite the sunshine, the threat of a coming cold front hung in the air. 

We took the opportunity to take out her new two-wheeler bike.  She had received it for her fourth birthday the autumn before and it was still shiny and new, with the sturdy training wheels and the purple basket and the tassels on the handlebars.  Watch me!  She took off down the bike trail, chocolate brown locks escaping her loose ponytail and whipping out behind her.  I pedaled slowly, coasting slightly behind her as her legs pumped the pedals in rapid, determined strokes.  This was freedom.  This was her big-girl bike, with the bell and the purple flower stickers and this was more speed and exhilaration than she had ever felt before.

We went about a mile down the trail when I started to hear thunder in the distance.  Race you back, I winked at her.  And she flashed me a smile as big as the sky and yelled I'm gonna win, Mama! as she took off at full speed back down trail.

The wind picked up as we reached the trail head and the crabapple trees, laden with blooms, began to shake. Thousands, hundreds of thousands, of petals began to shower down from the branches, swirling in the wind like giant snow flakes.  She sprinted from her bike, arms in the air, and started to dance in the petals. Sapphires eyes flashing with joy, face turned toward the sky, spinning, laughing, hands out, creamy pink skin and creamy pink petals, and waves of brown hair whirling in the wind, I'm a fairy princess, Mama! just before the first raindrops started to fall.

I passed that stand of crabapple trees today.

God, she was beautiful.