A few summers ago I found myself in Amsterdam. It was one of those dreamlike days where there is the faintest breeze and slightest chill to the morning. My family and I took 3 tables at an outdoor cafe, facing the few cyclists who had emerged at that hour. We shared coffee and Dutch apple pancakes, criossant and eggs. Afterward we strolled down to the Van Gogh museum.
On arriving, we each dutifully fell into our own pace, some walking briskly through the galleries, others floating between the pieces. My sister turned right on entering a room, my father, to the left. We were stunned that the sunflowers were actually so small, and at the depth and rainbow of colors used to create each piece. As I entered the last room, something caught my eye and I cut straight to the middle. There were the Almond Blossoms; the most spectacular painting I had ever seen. The colors evoked that day so crisply, and the effect was one of overwhelming tranquility and beauty.
I stood before it for an hour before I was ushered on to leave. I could have stared at it for years.
Today, I saw a photograph that immediately harkened back to that perfect day.
Proof that there is continuity in beautiful things. That the memory of such simple and incredible days can carry us through dark and cold ones alike.
Have a lovely weekend,
Girl
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