It’s uncommon for me to connect with nature. More often than not, I lock myself in my room to do what I need to do. The four walls of my space become both my comfort and my cage, shielding me from the noise of the world. Today, however, my parents dragged me out the door, forced an unfortunate pastel blue dress on me, and drove. The car ride was dull, the kind of silence that makes you want to disappear into your thoughts. Going back to my childhood senses, I watched the raindrops chase one another across the window. I picked favorites, cheering them on as they raced to the bottom. “C’mon, you got this, I know you can win,” I whispered in my head. Those drops slid down, collided, and disappeared, and for a moment, I felt time folding in on itself. When we reached our destination, I expected nothing more than the same monotony. The building itself looked as lifeless as the statue of Ozymandias. Each one mimicked the style and build from the last like cookie-cutter boxes of cement and glass. It was the kind of place you’d walk by without remembering it at all. 

 

As I stepped inside, I was met with a garden. Though even that name may be an understatement, as it could only be described as a living, breathing celebration of flowers. Lilies with their quiet elegance, orchids with their delicate mystery, and of course, roses in their bold, soft, eternal nature that perfectly fit the occasion. Each table held not only candles and miniature versions of the flowers at the entrance, as though the garden itself had followed us inside. It wasn’t long before my cousin entered, his steps sure and smile brimming with something beyond happiness. His girlfriend followed close behind, a delicate ring on her promise finger. And in that moment, the room transformed. Suddenly, it wasn’t just flowers adorning the space; it was people themselves. I saw how my people, like flowers, can grow and  bloom as they start a new chapter in their lives. And aren’t people one of the most breathtaking parts of nature? The sun may glow with an ethereal warmth, the moon may cast a lonely silver veil across the night, and the stars may scatter their light. But people? They make you feel loved in a way no celestial body ever could. Love isn’t just a word; it’s a sensation that seeps into you like butterflies in your stomach and in that nervousness a warm hug from the fire crackling in you parent’s living room on a rainy night. Being there, surrounded by family, I realized how deeply I had missed their voices and laughter. After being abroad for months, I finally felt the comfort of belonging again. It wasn’t just about the flowers, or the celebration, or even the pastel blue dress I had begrudgingly worn. It was about connection to people, to family, and to my roots. In that moment, I discovered my favorite part of nature. It wasn’t the mountains, the snow, the flowers, but the people themselves. The kind of nature that doesn’t grow outside your window, but within you.