Spring was once my least favorite time of year. Not because of all the pollen or the allergies that cozy up inside your nasal cavities for weeks on end although that could be reason enough. The reason I never really cared for spring is because it is so temporary. Sure, we are all deliriously happy to see and feel the sun again after such a long and snowbound winter. We're all tickled to watch the bland palette of our neighborhoods pop back into life right before our eyes; to see delicious red tulips and sassy pink snapdragons where there was just a palm of green yesterday is no tiny miracle. I too love a good show and what better stage than our earth this time of year? The problem for me in the past has always been that spring never lasts. I know it's not a profound observation as no season really lasts but spring feels like a passionate and sordid love affair between winter and summer; a transience between seasons. It is like having the host of a great party come and pick up all the plates and forks before you have a chance to taste dessert. Like getting up the nerve to talk to that cute foreign exchange student two nights before he is shipped back to his home country (not that Jacques is relevant here.) Over before it begins. Temporary. Spring to me once symbolized a restlessness...a flexing in the world that made me physically uncomfortable. I felt grumpy and surly while everyone around me seemed to rejoice in their tanks tops and flip-flops. Spring once made me itchy in my own skin and anxious for the next page to turn already. I couldn't wait for summer to stretch out her willowy legs and stick around long enough for margaritas and another dip in the pool. Summer is a stayer. I can relax around summer because she's not in a hurry to go anywhere else.
Not sure when it happened but things have changed. Spring is still not a favorite season (you cannot beat fall with a stick) but it's definitely not the worst anymore for me. I can appreciate the temporary of it without feeling threatened by it. I can see the tops of cars and sidewalks peppered in cherry blossoms without feeling sick to my stomach that their fat lady already sang and I just sat down with my Diet Coke. I don't feel slighted by the fantastic speed and hurried pace of spring as much as before. It still boggles my mind how many changes the earth goes through in the weeks between winter and summer but I no longer take it so personally.
Change has been a hard concept for me all my life. I like things to stay familiar. Homey. Warm cookies and cold milk. Spring once challenged that side of me and now I can honestly say that I welcome the difference. I welcome the flood of bright colors and wet grass. I welcome the renewal. As a mother of two awesome yet small children, a wife of a young yet hard working husband, and a beloved superdog who gets more arthritic by the day, spring is a great distraction for me. It gives me a few weeks of not noticing that we are all so temporary.