A Much Welcomed Spring

Winter, like always, had seemed to last longer than usual.  I couldn’t decide if I would rather it start and finish early or vice versa.  God either punished me or tested me everyday (I know not) with numb fingers as I scraped a sheet of ice off my windshield.  I took comfort in the idea that at least the broken heater in my car could not blow cold air in my face.  Each morning was a test of my endurance as I woke up, a rigid body, clutching my blankets while simultaneously trying to turn off an alarm that mocked me with the time 4:40 a.m.  Each day I went to a scripture study class in Springfield at 6:00 before school.  My dreams had no border with reality, but merged gradually into wakened life.  I recall (knowing now that it was a dream) not thinking I was allowed to take a shower because I had lost at blackjack.  Another time my weariness had me combing my hair with a toothpaste coated toothbrush.

At the same time, trapped in my house, insanity seemed to come closer each day as my sister forced me to listen to her “music”.  She only played three different songs ... over and over.  I felt like a chicken in a coop, overcrowded and ready to lash out. Between her, the music, and the sound of a snow shovel plowing the driveway, I would shiver occasionally with a cold chill, reminding myself that a freedom of peace and quiet would (hopefully) soon replace this dreaded season.

Once more, God mocked me.  One morning I woke, less tired than usual, and discovered that it was the first day I wouldn’t have to wear my coat which I began to refer to as my straightjacket.  “It’s a beautiful day,” I thought, and it was.  The receding chill also carried away my woes.  Against my best intuition, I had gotten excited that spring had finally arrived.  I rode to church with the windows down, reveling  in the new warmth, and throughout the day, all was well.  That night I went to bed eager to meet the next spring day.  To my utter dismay when I woke, I discovered God’s frozen tears of laughter on my windshield, again, waiting to be scraped off.

This went on for weeks until spring finally came.

I had watched the trees transforming from dead branches into vibrant greens.  Each day I set up my camera to capture the metamorphosis.   I would sit in a chair on the porch just to get caught up in the moment.  I was aware of everything around me.  I heard the first birds sing their songs.  The first leaves rustled in the warm breeze.  A shadow of a great bird passed over the lush grass as a turkey vulture flew high overhead, wings spread.  The humming of the honey bee whispered into my ear and told me that spring was here.  No stereo oozed it’s pollution into the scene; neither did outdoor labor defile it.  I don’t know how much time had passed, whether a minute or an hour it didn’t matter.  It was the first day of spring where anything could be forgotten without a worry in the world.

Suddenly, things started to get better.  Though I had lost an hour of sleep at the start of daylight saving time, I slept better as the perfect night air crept into my open window.  The air was warm, and I dared not complain about the heat lest it be taken back.

The time was one for peace and relaxation, a perfect season.  Yet soon I would forget it and take it for granted; take it for granted until the next winter when her cold breath would renew my love of the new season where the earth comes to life.