I took this picture on a street corner in my neighborhood a couple of weeks ago. I love the convergence of the three colors of tree leaves, in bright relief against the flawless background of that gorgeous blue sky. It's spring, it's life, it's looking upward instead of down, it's hope and beauty.
This winter felt like a metaphor for my life or at least my emotional state post-break-up. The winter was long--stretching well into March and even touching April--and very, very cold. We didn't get much snow or freezing rain, but it was bitterly cold long past the normal sweater season. I felt the cold fingering my insides every day as I tried to stave off tears and have hope for the future.
One day in early March, I wondered in all seriousness if the winter would ever end. "What if spring and summer never really come this year?" I thought. "What if it's still cold in July?" Just like it was hard to believe I'd eventually be able to go outside without all my woolen winter layers, it was also hard to imagine I'd ever emerge from my heartbreak to feel cheerful again.
Spring is a thrilling time for me every year. Every bud, blossom, and flower lifts my spirit. Every minute of additional daylight makes me feel more alive. This year, spring mirrored my emotional emergence from heaviness and darkness to color, new life, and light. It's been a lovely though cool spring, which has also seemed apt in my present emotional state. I'm still not entirely optimistic about the future, but at least I'm no longer dreading the present. I have the strength again to look upward into the warm sky and smile.
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