The snow has finally melted. The sun came out today and the heavy weight sitting on my chest suddenly lifted. “Spring has come!” the birds sang through my ribs. How dark it’s been, how cold and filled with worry. But today is bright and warm and lovely. You’re lovely, he said.
The detritus of winter is still visible. Fallen branches litter the ground, raging storms having ripped them from the trees. The melting snow formed puddles and turned our paths to mud. The dogs and I must make our way through the mess. But when I look up the sky is clear and open.
Something is blooming inside the forest. I can’t see any buds in flower, but I know they are there somewhere because I smell them. I am comforted by the trustworthiness of physical sense. My steps slow as I absorb this thought and the dogs turn to look back at me. I see patience and understanding reflected in their eyes, as if they know I still have much to learn.
A path around obstacles is not a detour, I realize, as I watch the dogs jump over a downed tree. It is the path. It may seem like fear and pain last much longer than joy, but time has no judgment. It marches on steady as a metronome. I cannot fully release the anxiety winter’s recent destruction has wrought in me, but I can smell spring coming. And for this moment, I feel lovely.