Opening Day of baseball. Decreasingly clad wildlife in the parks. Moms and dads running behind kids on their first training wheel-free cruise down the sidewalk; kids screaming “don’t let go!”, parents assuring them that they won’t (while, of course, having let go 20 yards back).
But most of all, change. As we slough off the weight of the winter, as the grey skies and the chilling cold of February fade from memory, we start to sense a new opportunity, a fresh hope that things will be okay, that life will blossom anew as surely as the flowers, and that the colors exploding in the physical world will doubtless have their analog in our hearts and souls, inner colors so intense that we fear that we may explode, as the richness of our emotions is too great to contain and we long to cry out from the hilltops, though no words can describe the joy we feel at simply being alive. Oh god, so alive …
It’s all bullshit, of course, but it beats the hell out of those cold March rains.
3 months ago