This morning, mud on my morning walk. And now, the sun shining bright enough to fill the room where my son is napping with a soft, margarine light.
Spring is near.
I am looking forward to walking—running—on sidewalks clear of snow. I am looking forward to just running, not having to navigate over snow banks, ice patches. But I will miss the frozen bay, its bright white glow. I will miss the empty tree branches that rest their hands against the shoreline. Black against white. There is a clarity there, a predictability that gives me solace.
Last winter was one of the most difficult in a while. So much snow. Days canceled. Kids sick with every imaginable illness. The apartment on the market, trying to keep it clean for showings—constantly clearing away the salt that collected in the entryway, the muddy shoeprints, the extra dust born of days on end spent at home.
Last winter left me panicked. I didn’t like the unpredictability of it all, the loss of control.
This winter, I told myself to try to let go. Illness and snow would happen. There was nothing I could do about that. I just needed to surrender. And remember that it would pass. It had to. It would. There was nothing to be afraid of.
I let it gestate in me, that knowledge. And it was better. It was. Not always. I panicked some this winter. I felt the weight of the dark days. The illness came. The snow came. But I was less encumbered by it, less afraid.
For this, I am grateful. The simple fact of asking, of making that intention.
I think it was around the same time that I asked to write. To write every day. I signed up for Jena Schwartz’s class just as winter began. And I did it. I did that. And in between, I wrote. Every day. Every damn day.
Now I’m back. Writing again with Jena and a new group of beautiful writers. What good fortune. Just in time for new life to spring up all around me.
If you can’t tell, I highly recommend Jena Schwartz’s online writing classes. They’re for anyone who wants to write, experienced or not. Any kind of genre. All you have to do is show up. No judgment, just support. It’s a beautiful thing.