The air was thick with the scent of fresh blooms, a reminder that spring had fully arrived. The park, with its rolling green and the warm dapple of sunlight through trees, felt timeless. I found my favorite spot—a sprawling oak with roots like open arms—and settled beneath it with a book.

But soon, I forgot about reading, letting the soft, floral breeze carry memories of other spring days: laughter with friends, picnics under similar trees, the joy of sun-warmed skin. As the afternoon stretched lazily on, I felt that quiet ache of nostalgia, grateful for a perfect day like this—one that would linger in memory, bringing warmth to springs yet to come.