I miss winter. There I said it. It has technically been spring for a few weeks now but the grey skies and cool temperatures allowed me to remain in denial. It even rained over the weekend. But spring is here now and there is no denying it. And I wish it was still winter. I’m sure this makes me sound like a serial killer or something. I’m not. I promise. And I don’t have anything against spring; I’m just not ready for it.
I’m feeling tender these days. I can’t say why exactly. No reason and every reason at once. Maybe it’s a mix of life events, world events, growing, changing, thinking. I’m feeling contemplative, inward and a touch melancholy. And I kind of like it. Winter is good for this. Winter is like being bundled up in a warm blanket. It’s all cozy scarves and spiced chai tea. I was born in winter. It is my season. I feel protected in winter. In spring, I feel exposed. Spring is like the wee early morning and I am too sleepy to leave my comfy winter bed and face the light of day. It is early and I stumble, bleary eyed, into the too bright kitchen and fumble around for the coffee maker. My limbs are weak and my head is cloudy and I want just 5 more minutes please. Pretty please?
I spend most of my lunch breaks at a café near my office. I sit in the window, headphones on, notebook out, and watch the world go by. Today I ordered creamy mushroom soup and sat in a dark corner, Cocorosie on my ipod. In the winter, this is perfection. But it is a bit off in the spring. On the other side of the window there was a couple sitting at a sidewalk table, basking in the sunshine while eating chicken caesar salads, the very epitome of spring. Everyone is wearing sandals and capris and looking forward to the hot days ahead. But I haven’t had a pedicure in ages, capris make my legs look stumpy, and hot days make my nose bleed. And so, as is often the case, I am out of step.
I was trying to explain this to a very dear, spring loving friend. First, she suggested that my wistful heart could perhaps use a little less Cocorosie. Then she told me that I was the sunniest grey lover she’s ever known and that when she thinks of me, she does not think of grey but rather peach and yellow with a touch of lavender for good measure. I found this interesting. As much as I love grey, I do like peach and sunshine as well. But one can’t live on sun ripened peaches alone. So I am still eating soup while the rest of the world eats peaches and Caesar salads. It is possible that I will fall in step with everyone else soon enough. Possible, but not probable.
What about you? Are you basking in spring?