This is the time of year when I begin to long for a spring day.
After winter shifts from snow and storms to overcast, cold rain, dirty streets, darkness, I long to walk in the sun. I wish I could see flowers uncurl from the hard soil and reach their hands to the sky. To hear birds sing. To watch the wind dance across the water.
It’s been a long winter. A winter that moved from the joyful anticipation of Christmas to the overshadow of Omicron – it felt like everyone was sick in January. And then it passed and people began to emerge again.
Every time a surge passes, some people sigh and say that’s the end and we should get back to normal, now. And other people double-up on masking and lock themselves tighter away. We are all mad in our own ways.
A madness that leads to invasion. A madness reflected in the stock market that proves itself divorced from reality with a surge of its own. Madness by politicians and crazy people who have managed to get elected by other crazy people and now want to impose their crazy on the rest of us.
Madness and sadness as old people decline in the darkness and the isolation, and vaccinated children choose to wear masks even when alone with their parents. And unvaccinated millennials throw temper tantrums when they aren’t allowed to behave recklessly towards others.
And I long for a spring day. A day when I can walk in the sun, let the breeze blow across my face. A day when I can wake early and watch the sun reach across the park, caressing the buildings with light. A day when dogs leap for joy in the wind, and daffodils bloom.
It feels like it has been so long.