In my resolution to fully immerse myself in the experience of the moment, I find myself reflecting on the immediate past. My past. The one I just lived last month, last week, last night. Yesterday, with all of its abundance. I feel a reverence for the passing season, and find I’m caught short with the prospect of spring’s arrival.
So…February ended. All that means winter–the mugs of very rich hot chocolate, the family room with the wood-burning fireplace, my yummy comfortable sweaters that I can’t even consider wearing from April to August…did I immerse myself in all of it quite enough?
I spent January on Waikiki Beach once. Well, not the WHOLE January. I was partly on the other beaches….and when I flew back home, Winter was gone. Birds were chirping so loudly. They were grackles, I think, and their greetings reminded me of a gigantic reunion, forgetting to mind their manners in their enthusiastic squawking. But it was a winter I was glad to have behind me. A darling grandson was born, my dining room was painted the perfect shade of red, my sweet little sister transitioned into a post-cancer life… All these things were going on, that winter, and I just sort of forgot to say goodbye to it.
But THIS winter, I feel nostalgic. I feel like I’m saying farewell to something very, very important. I could really go for one more cold spell, where I dash from the car, freezing wind and rain stinging my face, and fumble for my house keys because my fingers are numb. I want to watch branches bend and move while I stand in front of my huge kitchen window, hot soup in hand, rolls in the oven, and listen for my husband in the driveway. And if I heard the delicate creaking of my roof above me, it would remind me all is safely gathered in. I am cozy and safe indoors.
Spring. I LOVE spring. The dead of nature awakens and yawns and renews itself. But I’m not quite ready to love it yet.
Did I love winter enough?