Spring is sneaking up, melting the gray snow, making our days golden once again, sunlight dancing around the living room. We await eagerly but soberly because this is not our first rodeo and we know there will be at least one more snow as winter continues to grasp at its last straws. The wind whirls around as the branches shake with the anticipation of new life. Yes, new life is on its way, but there are no traces of it yet under the wet, dirty snow. Perhaps underground the seeds are taking root, the buds are beginning to awake, but I forgot that spring isn't all flowers and green grass. Spring begins with the mess and the mud of melting snow. It begins with the days we are too optimistic to wear a coat and end up shivering all day. The beginning of spring can be more frustrating than the whole winter, as it teases us, ruins our shoes, surprises us with snow.
As the miracle of life that grows from death begins, here we all are: frustrated, muddy, shivering, impatient. Sloshing wearily on the ground that will one day grow the green grass of our dreams.
And I'm reminded that I need patience, that the new life we anticipated here takes time and mess just like spring. Some days are cold, but others are warmer and remind me that the dirty puddles will dry up and soon we will sit in the grass and feel our skin freckling in the sun. But for now the snow is gray and the wind is cold.
But that's exactly how spring always starts.
As the miracle of life that grows from death begins, here we all are: frustrated, muddy, shivering, impatient. Sloshing wearily on the ground that will one day grow the green grass of our dreams.
And I'm reminded that I need patience, that the new life we anticipated here takes time and mess just like spring. Some days are cold, but others are warmer and remind me that the dirty puddles will dry up and soon we will sit in the grass and feel our skin freckling in the sun. But for now the snow is gray and the wind is cold.
But that's exactly how spring always starts.
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