Burst

And in an instant, how it all is transformed. Where did these buds come from? Surely they weren't there yesterday in the cold March rain. We run around the playground with our jackets open and stare into the sun without reservation. Every branch is teeming with sticky little clusters of Life in the making; I awoke to the sound of birds months gone.

How simple it is, the change. Life rushes so quickly back into my veins, into every fiber of my pale, weary body, and I feel it tickle my nerves as it comes. The heavy eyelids and tired limbs seem months away, the dark corners where I let my soul huddle through the dark months are long gone, and all that's left are dust bunnies along the walls, exposed by the bright light streaming in.

I grab a dishrag, find some soap, and I set about scouring the remnants of winter, from my heart.

Anticipation

Spring is so close, I can smell it. I stood at the Howard Beach station in Queens today and felt it in the sunlight. It tickles something deep, deep within me. Every year it's the same story. Every year, I am more than willing to fall helplessly and happily into the return of life.

Tonight I am tired. But tomorrow, tomorrow I allow the Life to run in my veins, again.

Reminders

It is good to be questioned, to have to put into words. See this city with more attentive eyes. Show someone else what makes it magic for me. We walk the streets up and down, tire ourselves and still don't get very far. The Village is calm, the city doesn't seem particularly big at all.

The little Spanish girl was not satisfied; if my parents lived in Utah, my sister in Sweden, and here I was only living with a friend, then where was my really real home? she asked.

This is it, I said. This is my really real home. And if she didn't believe me, at least I was convinced. This is my really real home, in the end.

Revisited

Where are you going? the woman asked me as we waited for the AirTrain. Oh, nowhere, I replied. I'm here to pick up my mother.

Two years since last she was here, and isn't it strange to think? A life based in that Greenpoint apartment with the breathtaking view. An adventure in the city, barely out of its cradle. There was no telling where it would lead; I suspected my money would run out by fall. We navigate the West Village maze now, and it's difficult to remember a time when everything was new, every map uncharted.

It's good to be reminded sometimes: we live, we learn, we evolve. These days pass so quickly, but not a single one was lived in vain.

Medicating of Self

an·o·dyne /ˈanəˌdīn/
1: something that soothes, calms, or comforts

anodyne cocktail /ˈanəˌdīn ˈkɒkˌteɪl/
1: see above, add vermouth and orange rind

I think I have found the trick to surviving (the rain, the winter, the everything).

In Waves

Orphan Puppy gets sick in the night. Spends hours pacing and by morning we are on high alert, our hearts breaking before our eyes, as she hangs listless from her bed. We prepare ourselves, yet again, and I go to work with heavy steps. But by afternoon, she is back to pitter-pattering around the apartment, inhaling food and wagging her tail at every flicker in the lights. I laugh, relieved and delighted at her antics, and she spends the afternoon snuggled next to me as I work. These days are tough our emotional sanity, but every good day in the wait, is still so much better than the alternative.

And suddenly I sit here with an airplane ticket in my inbox. The greatest solution to every itch, to every dead feeling, to every restless fear. A deadline looms, more like a promise than a stressor, and I ready myself to write lists and check them off in time for departure. I run through the nerves that need to be stretched, and paint the romantic images of spring in France to tempt my palate. France, spring, wine, work. Open roads and people to win over. A project of passion in the making, the passion long since there. I know there is much work to be done before this trip, I know there are obstacles to overcome. But the trip is worth the effort. The Trip is always worth the effort. That's what makes airplane tickets sparkle so.

Be Mine

I saw a picture of you today. It's been so long since I saw you in the flesh. I forget to think of you. Perhaps if I had thought of you when the time was right, things would be different.

But I didn't.