Do you feel it? The change sifting through the cold wet ground and heard in the squeaky sounds of life sleepily opening its eyes for the first time in months. The inhale of air and recognition of the subtle shift stirring around you.
I can’t help it. Every year this happens here in a land where seasons are so starkly contrasted and I feel the anticipation lace from my stomach and catch in my throat.
I am a child of the sun. I’ve always known this. Thinking back, I don’t have a single memory of winter as a tiny child, but countless flood at the thought of summer. Then during the worst years, the ones I look back at and am grateful I’m still here, I would remind myself things would get better if I could just hold out till that first breeze blew. Words that were paper thin, but I held them anyways. And even now in the midst of a beautiful even if hard year I still feel the excitement build as the light lasts a little longer.
The sun plays and so do I. Secret lovers with only so much time to spare. The heavy layers slip wayside and I can finally stand tall with my head thrown back just laughing, daring whatever it is to come. All the dead branches of winter falling away as green growth shoots into sight. I let my own dead things drop as well, hoping, waiting, expecting only the best in this sweet time. Winter may be held together with grit and clenching, but summer drifts past in a soft haze I wish I could grasp a little longer.
I feel bare feet scorch against the ground and smile against the heat. Here with waves of heat shimmering in the air I feel weightless and effortless all at once. The person I wish I could be year round, but only emerges with the rest of the summer things.
I almost feel bad for the ones who live in sun kissed spaces year round. They’ll never know the sweet relief of the sun dancing across your face after only ice and bitterness for so long. Or the strength of surviving the longest darkest season that exists. Or the thrill of rolling down that window and feeling the world open up all around you.
Tell me you can feel it now too. The new beginnings waiting to be poured out and painted across the page. The hope for something different something lighter.