In the past eight months or so, seasons have changed. Our family, however, has been sort of stuck in the dead of winter.
We painted the trim on the house a different color, did a few renovations on the house, I got a haircut. But none of these offered enough of a change. The thing with the coming of Spring for me has always marked a new beginning. The grime of winter slow melts away to reveal green grass and budding flowers. The sun has never felt so good. Often one cleans the house, gets rid of what isn't used anymore, all that is old and worn out.
There are a few things I haven't been able to clean out yet. The baby toys in the closet, set back just enough so that I don't see them, but know they are still there. My jeans, which, after two post baby bellies (dead babies) that have now conjured as one, no longer fit me. My body has become this temple of death. The pack n' play, my CDs of reggae music, the infant car seat, maternity clothes. I hold onto these things, just in case. As if some day my life will be different, and better, if I get to use them.
On the way up my hike today the trail was covered in snow and ice. On the way down, it had begun to slowly melt, creating a small stream that ran down the trail. It felt good to follow the stream, which took the place of the trail, as if I was leading me somewhere. I followed it for awhile until it turned back to ice. Still winter here. Still waiting for that stream to lead us all the way to Spring.