I think back to the season of us. How everything around us was in bloom. The colors, the joy, and how the raindrops glistened on your skin after that thunderstorm.

I'll never forget how the drought felt. The way the red roses and tulips we had planted wilted and browned. The way the birds stopped singing our names along the treetops. The way our small world, slowly but surely, grew a little less warm.

The following winter was cold and unforgiving. The snow suffocated whatever love we had left, and we neglected to rekindle the dying fire in our chests.

Spring thawed the ice that had once taken my lungs hostage, and with that came fresh breaths of freedom. I planted sunflowers and daisies for myself, and they've grown taller than any flower in our garden ever did.