The newest addition to my plant family, a purple Hyacinth, is sitting close by as I sip on my coffee and write. The blossoms are filling the room with a soft fragrance and I’m taking deep breaths of it in.
Inhale – exhale
Inhale – exhale
Here I am. Doing the same thing I was doing yesterday. And the day before that. And the one before that one. It seems winter, post-Christmas winter, brings out the worst in me. I should clarify that it is specific to post-Christmas winter because I love the Christmas season and, other than the few weeks of adjustment to more bundling and winter driving, I enjoy the weeks leading up to the holiday despite the rush of it all. But I finally have admitted to myself that I’m not a winter person. I hibernate as best I can, curling up on couches with warm steaming drinks close by.
Winter is actually a lovely time of the year, the slowness of it all. I try to take advantage of it. I try to see the glass half full. The beauty of the freeze, the activities only winter can provide. But then…then I start to feel cooped-up, held back, bored, depressed. Every damn year. It doesn’t seem to matter how much vitamin D I’m popping or the fact that we had a week of warmth away from the kids this time around, I simply get weary of the winter.
I NEED spring. I get excited for the new growth and despite all of its messiness and muck, it revives me. One foot in the frost, one foot in the thaw. Every spring reminds me of perseverance and grace. Seeing life burst through ground that was once frozen, I am reminded of myself in it all.
I could use some reviving right about now.
“I will refresh the weary and satisfy the faint.”