This week has been a contrast in states. I’ve been sick, oh how I’ve been sick, with a head cold that began least weekend with a tightening in my sinuses, and ended with me actually taking a nap on afternoon, intending to read another Sebold novel, but passing out next to a gently snoring 4 year old. It’s mostly passed now, slight congestion left in it’s wake, while the rest of the household contends with it.
But outside-outside has been glory-the sky blue, the sun warm and frank, the air full of the smell of melting snow, thawing ground, winter receding. I’ve seen two robins, their breasts rusty and familiar against the endless blue sky. I’ve smiled just for the sake of it, my face warm and my body sighing in that “FINALLY!” sort of way, my skin itching for the feel of the sun and air after such a long and cloistered winter.
I start a new job on Monday-a fairly crummy job, but it’s work, and it’s money and it’s, more importantly, stressfree. Spring feels special this year, because I have my new beginning this time-it’s scary to me, and it’s complicated, but it’s newness, and my chest is lighter by ages because of this, and my mind is relaxed, knowing all that matters is the roof and the food and the clothes and past that, we’re golden.
My head is clear and blue enough to write again. To start writing, to have those thoughts of characters and places and things to say and not say. I’ve been committing words to paper, or Open Office, and I’ve just been writing. Not much, not yet, but the important thing is that, after years of feeling mentally constipated and annoyed, my mind has opened it’s arms to the robins of thought, and embraced them, feeding them tiny fat worms and feeling the beating of their hearts.
Oh my friends, it is spring.