Maya and Lila wake up to a soft morning. The curtains are thin and the sun is gentle. They press their noses to the window. Outside, the garden smells like wet earth and something new.
"Do you see?" says Maya. Her breath fogs the glass a little. Lila points. Tiny green shoots are pushing up through the soil. A brave crocus lifts its purple face. A dandelion shows a dot of yellow.
They put on their little coats. The air is cool but kind. On the path, puddles are round like mirrors. The girls splash with their boots. Water sprinkles on their cheeks and makes little belly laughs.
The trees are still bare, but they are not empty. Little buds sit like sleepy seeds. Gentle wind sings in the branches. "It sounds like a song," says Lila. Maya nods and hums the tune.
In the garden, a robin hops and tilts its head. It sings a bright note. "Hello, robin," whispers Maya. The robin answers with another chirp. The girls crouch down and feel the dirt with their fingers. It is soft and cool. They find a fallen leaf and roll it between their palms. The leaf smells like last season and new rain.
At the kitchen table, a box of crayons waits. The paper says the crayons are for everyone. Maya takes a blue crayon and Lila takes a green. They sit together on the floor with big paper spread like a white field.
"I will draw the sun," says Maya. She makes a round yellow circle. Her crayon is warm in her hand. Lila draws a little tree with tiny green dots for leaves. Her green is the color of the new shoots outside.
They share the crayons. Maya uses Lila's purple to add a crocus. Lila borrows Maya's brown to draw soil. They pass the box back and forth. Sometimes their fingers touch. They giggle. The page fills with yellow, blue, pink, green, brown and purple. The colors smell like crayons and paper. The drawing looks like the garden, small and full of life.
A neighbor, Mrs. Green, walks by with her dog. She waves. "The world is waking up," she says with a smile. "Spring likes to whisper to us." The girls listen. They think spring whispers like a feather.
Maya paints a puddle. Lila adds a frog with big eyes. They remember the frog from last year. "He will come back," says Lila. "He comes when the pond is happy," says Maya. They draw the pond with a shaky ring of blue. The colors are soft and bright.
They take a snack on the doorstep. Warm toast, cool milk. The sun touches their knees. A bee hums by, slow and careful. It lands on a clover and drinks. The bee is tiny and busy. "Hello, bee," says Maya. The bee moves on, carrying pollen like little paint.
Later, they walk to the park. The grass is a new green carpet. Shoes make soft squeaks. Little clouds float like cotton. There are smells of wet grass and cut wood. A mother shows her baby a tulip. A boy runs with a kite that bumps the wind.
At the park, the girls sit on a bench and look for colors. They find shiny stones and a feather. They make a game. "Find something pink," says Lila. Maya finds a petal from a blossom. They hold it gently, like a secret between hands.
They sit in the sun and show each other their drawings. "Your sun is so bright," says Lila. "Your tree is full of leaves," says Maya. They clap softly. The drawings reflect the garden and the park and the warm day. They tuck the paper in a folder to keep the spring safe.
On the way home, they see a puddle that holds the sky. The reflection is pale blue. They jump and the sky ripples. Lila laughs so her mouth makes a moon shape. Maya laughs back. The puddle goes back to being a smooth mirror. It keeps the clouds for a moment and then lets them go.
Back at home, the girls help plant seeds in little pots. They press the tiny seeds into the soil with their thumbs. "Tiny sleeping seeds," says Maya. "They are getting ready," says Lila. They water the pots with a small blue cup. Drops fall like soft music. The seeds will sleep a little while and then wake when the days are warm.
As afternoon eases to evening, the light turns honey-colored. Shadows are long and cozy. Their mother lays out a blanket and spreads the drawings on it. The girls lie down and look at the papers. The colors glow under the lamp like small suns.
Outside, wind hums a lullaby. Inside, the house smells like dinner and crayons and clean skin. Maya and Lila whisper about what they learned. "Spring is like a friend," says Maya. "It comes back to say hello," says Lila. They think about buds, puddles, bees and seeds. They think about sharing crayons and sharing smiles.
Their mother tucks them in. The blanket is soft. The room is warm and safe. On the bedside table, the drawing sits under a small lamp. The yellow sun on the paper seems to glow a little more. The light is gentle and steady. It feels like the sun from their picture has stepped into the room to stay.
Maya closes her eyes and remembers the sound of robins, the smell of soil, the feel of wet puddles, the tickle of clover and the bright colors of the day. Lila holds her hand. They breathe slowly. The light from the drawing flows like a tiny river of warmth.
Soon the room grows quiet and the girls drift toward sleep. In their dreams, the garden keeps waking up. Little seedlings rise, bees hum soft songs, and the sun walks with them like a friendly lamp. The warm, bright feeling wraps around them, gentle as a hug. The light they shared with their crayons floats beside them as they sleep, soft and glowing, promising spring will come again tomorrow.
