It's the second to last day of February. There's a foot of snow on the ground and temps have been hovering near 20 degrees for what feels like weeks. I'm done with Winter. Done with bleak and cold and gray. I'm tired of being warm only immediately before the dogs have to go out or the alarm goes off. I'm praying for the green of Springtime and a place to sit in the warm sun. I close my eyes and see myself on Scott's boat on the river, with a cold drink and the hot sun, and kicking myself for not appreciating it more. "Next summer", I say to myself, "I won't take it for granted. I'll soak in the sun and heat and hold it deep in my soul like a savings account for next winter." But I know that I won't. I don't imagine I'm any different than any other person in the region, but as endless as the Winter seems, it's brought some joy with it.
I'm sitting in my office, newly decorated and organized. Finally got my own room, after many, many years of joking. I'm typing on a computer that was a Christmas gift, with my favorite things all around me and candles burning behind me, with a blue topaz crystal (the Writer's Stone) hanging in above my monitor. This is my space now. This is my sanctuary from the desolate and ceaseless winter. And I love it desperately.
The problem, for me, with having my own territory, where I can write and write and write, is that I have to write. And there's nothing scarier than a blank page. My blog page has seven unpublished drafts. I wrote things that scared me, and I wrote things that made me sob, but they aren't ready yet. They've got to sit on the shelf awhile longer until the brave parts of me are ready to push the Publish button and let them free. So, until I can, let's have an update, shall we?
As of this moment, we are three in the house. (Well, five, including the dogz.) And so, in our three bedroom house, the third bedroom evolved into the very office that I write to you from. Three is so quiet, sometimes. But three can also be very loud, especially while discussing Zoe's Freshman schedule for next year. A Freshman. And to think, that just yesterday I dropped her off at preschool three days a week and watched the two hours drag by. We are well, but everyday we creep closer to empty nesting and WOW, it's strange to be on this side of the parenting hill. I find that I wish I could go back and do it all again, do it all better, be more and appreciate more and laugh more. I suppose that's what grandchildren are for? We are anxiously anticipating number nine in early May. Another reason to hope for Spring.
We moved last May. We have neighbors again. Neighbors that have watched me drag my reluctant dogs into the cold yard to do their business while dressed as what I can only imagine scientists in the Antarctic dress like. It was a surprisingly easy adjustment, moving back to civilization. It's not as though we moved to a booming metropolis, you could fit the whole town in a regular size envelope and mail it for less than a dollar, but I did think I would miss the peace of the country. Turns out, I thoroughly enjoy paved streets that get plowed and the diner that's a half a block away. (Try the cauliflower and cheese! Or the pork tenderloin sandwich, hand breaded! Or the gyro! Or.....)
There's more. So much more. It will have to wait. Today I'm feeling a little braver than I did yesterday. Today I wrote this, so that tomorrow I can write something else. Something braver, something deeper. I don't know what the Something is yet. But it will come. It's not too far away, I know. Like Spring.
