Amidst the throes of winter when everyone is burrowed inside, armed with attitude and cursing the cold, I can be found under a blanket doing the same. December may deliver the first frost, but for the following months I’m left curled on the couch watching snow blanket the ground through the sunroom windows. My thoughts, always mirroring the weather, sink into a heavy gloom and my sadness remains in sync with the darkening of the sky. But even in the thick of it—wondering if the sun will ever again touch my face—sooner or later the spirit of winter clashes with the spark of spring. And once again, I witness the annual battle between competing reputations; a battle that always ends the same—with the overthrow of a king who overstayed his welcome.
May, slowly but surely, graces us with her presence and, much like a long-lost lover, makes it difficult to trust her intentions or believe she is here to stay. It isn’t until my eyes catch the first glimpse of sun peeking behind parting clouds, nor until I hear the sweet song of mourning doves, that the weight of winter lifts from the world, and life begins its glistening resurrection. I, too, feel lighter, kinder, and am ready to let a hint of hope re-enter my body.
I might have been born in March, but there’s something about May, like the soft stroke of warmth against my skin, that makes me feel safe and assured. For those of us residing in the Northeast, the beginning of May is when winter often takes its last breath; never mind that spring technically starts in April. April has misled me one too many times, and I have since considered her a fair-weather friend. May, however, arrives as my dutiful therapist, watching and waiting for me to heed her advice and awaken to my ultimate potential. She knows me, and I her, like a friend visiting from out of town, recognizing I’m in need of a gentle shoulder to lean on. She is the calm after the storm, the light at the end of the tunnel as silent, still winter finally slips into melodious spring. Nature is alive once again, and I am ready to commit to a renewed version of myself. If only the world could be this bright and vibrant every day, I would bloom like a tulip—stretching to shake hands with heaven.
