In the hush of early morning, when dew still clings to the petals and the air hums with quiet promise, I remember what it means to be sweet again.

Not sweet in the way of sugar or charm, but in the way of wild strawberries hidden in tall grass—fragrant, fresh, untamed. The kind of sweetness that doesn’t ask to be noticed, but offers itself freely to those who pause long enough to find it.

I want to be that again. To shed the bitterness that crept in unnoticed, like dust settling on a windowsill. To let the wind comb through me and carry away the weight of days too heavy with expectation. I want to be fragrant with forgiveness, fresh with curiosity, wild with wonder.

Let me be thankful for the small things: the way sunlight dances on a cracked sidewalk, the laughter that bubbles up without reason, the kindness of a stranger who holds the door. Let me gather these moments like wildflowers—unassuming, imperfect, and utterly miraculous.

Make me sweet again, not for the world’s approval, but for my own quiet joy. Let me bloom where I am, and find grace in the ordinary. 😘🙏🏾

©️ Beatriz Esmer