It’s a warm afternoon in Los Angeles.
It’s the kind of warmth that makes you think of ice cream trucks and honeysuckle.
Of lawn mowers early in the morning, and cold pools that are vacant till around 3 when the sun peaks.
Of laughter and eating take-out on the back of your friend’s car as the sun goes down.
It’s the kind of warmth that reminds a person that they’re alive.
And it’s a good feeling.
I know this feeling better than I know most people.
It’s difficult to grasp exactly why a person smiles when they do,
why a person cries during commercials,
or sighs when given remedial tasks.
You can’t completely know a person unless they let you in.
I don’t think many people know how to let people in.
I’m more open emotionally after taking acting classes.
I don’t act much anymore, but I still love and admire the craft.
My creativity and inspiration always bloom after the grayness of winter passes.
I’ve found my muse in April.
When spring comes the sky welcomes the sun like a dog welcomes his person home.
Ecstatic that their favorite friend finally made it back to them.
Elementary school taught me that April showers bring May flowers.
For me, April brings yellow mornings and pink nights.
There aren’t many rain showers in Los Angeles, at least not like the ones back in New York.
I think I’m going to miss that the most.
I love spring and the sunshine that comes along with it.
When the air grows warmer I grow anxious.
I aspire to be louder and bolder,
so I write and I make art.
I’m not sure if anyone reads what I write.
I’m not even sure if I’m any good at it, but I love it.
I was told by teachers that I was a terrible writer as a child.
It put a real damper on my spirit.
People can be crass and rude, but it doesn’t make them right.
Doesn’t mean you should let your spirit falter.
Not for long at least.
I’m glad I’m writing again.
I love afternoon’s in the spring as much as I love early mornings every other time of year.
Spring’s here, the sun’s out, and I’m happy.
April’s going to be good for me.