Printemps

Every year it seems winter gets longer. Even this year when we didn't even get cold weather until mid January, I was sick of it by February. Now it is the first day of spring (March 21) and I couldn't be more relieved.

But I must say, my much anticipated elation over the chirping of a house wren, or the blooming of a crocus was not to be. This year, that soaring feeling in my heart and the drunken feeling in my soul did not happen as it has in years previous.

"How could this be?" I asked myself. Where is that wild exuberance? Come to think of it, I didin't really have it when the first snow came like I usually do. Everything seems a bit muted this year. Am I getting tired? Am I getting too old to enjoy the things I once was so spiritually bound to?

So I put myself out there. I stepped out onto the porch. I breathed the fresh air into my lungs. I looked around. I looked up. I paused as my mind raced into the azure pool that is our beautiful sky. I tried to fly up there as I had done on so many other occasions before. But it wasn't effortless like it had been in previous years. I had to really focus, I had to really try to fly.

Have I become an albatros? What shackles me to this terrestrial dungeon? Can I ever feel myself and fly again? Or am I doomed to stay tethered here on earth until I die?

Well, I can only conclude that it is a symptom of being too overcome by problems and concerns here on earth. My ability to fly is being inhibited by my empathy, my debts, my family worries, and my health concerns. I now have to dig through a box of packing fodder to get to a small little vestige of a smile. And even if I find it, I can't hold it, it is ephemeral.

I don't like the prospect of having to count my days by the calories I eat. Something about that disturbs my inner being. It makes me want to rebel! It makes me want to eat. It's like I'm in a war with myself. One wants me to live and one wants me to die. But the whole of me just wants to be able to fly.

Has the world finally killed my inner child? Have I lost my inner child to worldly concerns and aspirations? Where is Puff? I hope he comes back and takes my heart on a flight over the shining lakes and bright flowers blooming. I hope he lets me off in a place that's not so hard, not so tiring, not so trying. And I hope he breathes the breath of spring into my lungs once again and leaves me to sit in the park behind my house, making purple, white, and green necklaces out of clover flowers as the breezes toss my hair, cool, and soothe me.