What an odd time of year. My feet are in heavy boots and slush and muck and ice but in my mind they’re in sandals and grass and warmth and sand. My body is in frayed flannel shirts and heavy coats but in my mind it’s in sundresses..and nothing else. That’s all I need. It only takes one nice day, one teaser, and morale is up. The light at the end of the tunnel grows close.
I was talking with my good friend Nora today and we both agreed on a few things. One is that April is not really a memorable month. Of course April has my husband’s birthday and our anniversary but other than that, I rarely remember rainy Aprils. In fact I was thinking about a particular day last spring in which we went to Brattleboro, Vermont and had a wonderful family day. I remember Scarlet in a coat and the cold wind that took my hat off. I could have sworn that day happened in March but in looking through this blog, I found that it happened in late April! That’s April for you. Not cold, not even warm. It sort of just is what it is. Nora and I also talked about visiting beach towns when they’re closed for winter and how they’re much more depressing in November than March. March is so hopeful. Late February is hopeful because March is.
I am an impatient person. A blog post I’m currently also writing (I have about 17 parallel ones brewing) talks about how impatient I am. I’m the person who survives nearly 17 years of life just fine without a driver’s license but is in absolute agony from age 16 1/2 – 17. I’m the person who keeps a pretty positive outlook throughout a horribly rough winter but is in absolute agony during the last few weeks of it. I hate close finish lines. I hate intensity and desperation, trying to get everything in those last few seconds. I am fine in the beginning of the race. I am pretty ok in the middle. I am frustrated at the end.
This pretty much happens every year to me. Or it always did. I’ve been pretty distracted in the last few years.
…Four years ago right now, I was planning to move to San Francisco after over 26 years in Jersey. I was literally born thinking I’d never stay there. We never gelled. Throughout my whole childhood, I dreamed of beautiful places I’d someday live. In that childhood game MASH, when you had to write down four types of homes, four future lovers, four future professions and four future places to live, my four future places to live were always: Colorado, California, Somewhere in New England, New York City. Two down. Oh and my four future professions changed a lot but always included being a writer. (Let’s not talk about the future lovers).
…Three years ago I was counting down to my wedding. It was almost time for Cassidy’s bachelor party which coincided with a visit from my mom. I was anxiously writing in a journal and reading books about how getting married f*cks with your head a lot. At least I knew that beforehand. Wedding aside, I still wasn’t thinking about spring because where I lived, nearly every day of the year was either spring or fall. That had its pros and cons.
…Two years ago, probably to the day or so, we were moving into our condo in Northampton. I was disoriented and even slightly depressed at first. I thought having our own place finally would alleviate some of my stress but the good feelings weren’t instant. Then after a cold night or two, a magical truck from California arrived, carrying all of our possessions that we hadn’t seen in over five months. We had been living off of stuff we packed into a suitcase. I was so happy to see my old clothes again! And then I remembered that I couldn’t wear most of them because I was getting largely pregnant. Oh well. I’ll never forget that first night in our bed in our own place. Just me, Cassidy, and the tiny flutters and kicks coming from my stomach. It was magic. I know it was after the Oscars which were the 22nd. Our Northampton anniversary could be tonight, for all I remember.
…One year ago, I had a newly crawling baby. I was thinking about starting a blog. My blogiversary is in less than a week and you can bet I’ll say more on that later.
But tonight..it’s cold and rainy/snowy. Daylights savings time is two weeks away and spring is three. The finish line is taunting me but I’ll make it. For now, there’s laughter and warm baths:
“No need to abort.
The countdown starts.” — Peter Schilling