The tree outside my window is covered in baby buds and the bark is dark with moisture.  Snow falls through the green and melts on the grass-covered earth.  How strange it is to have snow in spring, white and green.  I see the soft gray sky through the branches, it feels so close, makes the world feel small. A memory flashes in my mind: I'm young, only a few feet tall.  I'm dressed in a fluffy snow coat, pants and boots.  My young face pokes out from under the fur rim of my coat, pink and cold, but radiating complete joy.  My dad, younger but still the strong burly man I love, picks me up and tosses me in the air.  I squeal with delight.  I wrap my small arms around his neck and give him an Eskimo kiss.  The memory fades and I'm left smiling out the window.  It amazes me how there are certain things we never forget, and yet how some things we forget so quickly.  It occurs to me the reality of how fragile we are, how human we are.  We are flesh and bones, memories and thoughts, emotions and feelings, so terrestrial.  But it does not scare me like it has in the past.  Yes, we are imperfect, so completely imperfect, but in the midst of all this imperfection, there is truth and honesty and belief and greatness.  We are fighting for right, we are striving for righteousness and goodness, we are doing our very best.  And that is all that matters.