Tuesday, April 6, 2010
It's springtime, and like everyone else, I am glad. Although, the reason that I am glad is not because I hate winter, snow, and cold weather. On the contrary, I adore all of those things. In fact, if I had to pick a favorite season, I would probably pick winter . . . call me weird. I love each season as it comes -- each season in its due time. The reason I am happy to welcome back spring is for three things: the smells, leaves once again on the trees, and THUNDERSTORMS!! Yes, that's right, I love storms. I am pretty much infatuated with all bad weather . . . storms, snow, wind, cloudiness, etc. The only thing I do not enjoy, however, is driving in them.
Springtime really pulls out the Transcendentalist in me. I like to channel my kindred spirits of Emerson and Thoreau. I suppose most people would say that nature is the thing that most inspires and rejuvinates them. So I won't say that (even though it's true), because I hate being just like everyone else. So instead, I'll say, that nature exxagerates my poetic soul, prompting me to want to write more than normal.
I have a lovely memory of my third or fourth year of college, when I was taking my American Poetry course. I went to the park one day, in early spring, and sat on the grass reading my designated assignments. Reading poetry never felt like an "assignment." I read Frost, Dickinson, and Crane . . . rubbing my toes in the soft, smooth hairs of the ground. It was fairly cloudy that day, and I loved it. I remember hoping that a storm was coming soon.
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This morning, as I was walking our dog, Desmond, I saw bumblebee hovering over the grass. I internally shook with excitement when I dorkily thought, "It's moving like a Landspeeder!" For those of you that don't know, a Landspeeder is the vehicle Luke uses in Star Wars when he is sent off to find the newly purchased droids, R2-D2 and C3-PO, so that he could get back and run off to the Toshi Station to pick up some power converters! Okay, geek-out is over . . . sorry. All these years of being a Star Wars nerd and having two older brothers tends to take control of my mind-to-mouth or brain-to-fingers dynamic at times.
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I think of my mom when I think of spring. It's her favorite time of year, when all things fresh and green come sprouting out of the ground, speckling the landscape with long-forgotten colors and fragrances. It's rejuvenating for her. I think it makes her feel as though new and wonderful things are on the way. It's hard not to when the buds begin popping up on the bare, well-rested branches and the breeze turns warm, brushing past your cheek. It's hard to not be in a good mood with all of that. Spring suits my mom . . . it is cheerful, optimistic (but not in the obnoxious way), and is full of hope. And neither get the full appreciation that they deserve, as spring is all too quickly apprehended by summer heat and humidity.
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Spring makes me think of the end of school drawing near, even though I no longer am in school. I still sometimes get that feeling of freedom coming closer, of care-free days and little responsibilities. Ahhh, yes, I do miss that very much. There really is no such thing when you are an adult. There is never such a definitive end to the responsibilities. That is often depressing, if I think about it concretely. Spring doesn't mean quite the same to me as it used to. But that's okay. I've just about come to terms that I can never go back to the way things were as a child. I've just about gotten the Peter Pan complex beaten out of me . . . almost. Although, I fear it will never be totally gone. And I'm not sure that I want it to. As much as it's caused me grief, struggling with accepting this whole "adulthood" thing, feeling like I'm never quite caught up with the rest of the world . . . I have a feeling that if it were gone from me forever, I would feel an incredible sense of emptiness. It is precisely my inner child that keeps me going. Without it I would simply be a muddled mess of issues. My inner child is the thing that gives me joy, of the most true and unadulterated kind. It is my inner child that makes me feel like me.
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Spring . . . just one transition, one passage . . . till the next has arrived. And I am glad to experience it. Hopefully I can find much delight in the simple fact that all is well . . . flip-flops are once again appropriate attire. The windows can open. And the strawberries are looking deliciously crimson and plump. Some things should just never be taken for granted!