I’m tired of rain and the low, dark clouds and
sodden earth that come with it. I’m tired of those swiveled brown leaves that
cling to the bottom branches of oak trees even while the higher branches are
sprouting new ones. I’m tired of watching green mildew paint itself over every
wooden surface in my back yard. I’m tired of that breathless smell of compost
that rushes into the garage every time I raise the door after another soggy
night.
I feel like taking every piece of furniture in my
house to Key West and spreading them out on the lawn of the Casa Marina Hotel
in the bright sunshine for a week to burn off the dross of winter. If it were
only warm enough I would go outside and scrub that milky-white film of salt and
snow melting chemicals off of my cars with my bare hands.
If I have been reduced to this by the unrelenting
gloominess of this interminable season, I can only imagine how my Dad must feel.
Day after day he sits in his chair, covered with blankets in his hot house
watching the news. His exposure to the weather is limited to a glance out of
the window and our complaints. I’m taking him to one of his doctors tomorrow. I
hope it’s sunny and warm. I want him to feel the sun on his face. I want to
feel the sun on my face.
There has to be a reason for winter, if nothing else
than to make us appreciate spring, to create in us an expectation of something
better. April is nearly here. It will be better, warmer and it will bring life.
We need it.
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