New Beginnings and Changing Seasons

Spring is coming.  With it it brought the promise of new beginnings.  The thrum of the frozen ground as beats into new life.  A chance to start fresh.  To slough off old disappointments and breathe in the hope of something better.

I know you never thought you would make it here, but you did.  Here you are.  You survived the harsh winter, the broken hearts, and the nights you cried yourself to sleep.  You had to take time to heal and that is okay because you did heal.  You picked yourself up with a resilience that you should be proud of. It takes more than a broken heart to break your spirit.

Its been a year now.  You try to forgot the way the snowflakes stuck to his eyelashes or the way he smiled at you as you ran away from the rest of the world.  You try to forget, but you also try to remember.  The memories don’t sting as much.  In fact they have a beautiful element to them, because even though it came to a bitter end, in those moments you felt hopeful and in love.  You need to hold on to that feeling.

Spring is coming.

A breathe of fresh air after a long desolate winter. Spring is coming and bringing the promise of something new, something good and full of hope.  And you can’t help but hope that maybe things will be different this time around.

Spring is here, and so are you.  You with your gentle heart and your old soul.  So strange how life keeps moving and seasons keep changing without barely a notice.  How interesting that you should notice now.

Summer is coming.

The promise of freedom and adventure, as new beginnings turn into late night stories.  The world is alive under your toes and at the tips of your fingers, and you can’t help but to feel alive as well.  You can’t help but feel like nothing can hold you back.

Summer is here and you are sitting on a fence watching the sun set over the rolling country hills.  Your skin had that feeling it gets when it has been immersed in sun and water all day.   You are sitting there in silence, watching the sun go down and the stars come out.  The misquotes had come out hungry and angry, sticking to the tears that were gliding down your face.

Sticky summer tears that came with no explanation.

But You knew.  You didn’t want to admit it, but you knew.  Healing is a funny thing.  It never happens as quickly or completely as you think it should.  You think you are fine, but then pain sticks its thorny hands back into your heart and rips open the scabs.  So you cry about strangers who become friends only to become strangers once more.  And just sit on a fence alone with the misquotes and your thoughts.

It can be easy to play the victim.  To stay here and cry.  To get angry and wonder why life can be so cruel.  It can be easy to sit here and feel sorry for yourself, all while missing everything that is right in front of you.  But you won’t let yourself give up that easily.  So you fight back, and you refuse to play the victim.

It’s okay to stop running.  In fact it is time.

Hold your breathe and jump in feet first.  Sink or swim – the nervous anticipation as you wait to see which one it will be.  Before long you know that cold desolate winter will be here once again.

Feet florida

Photo Credit: Lori Rensink

Tears and Rain

I love rainy days.  I know, how melancholy of me.  I love sunny days too, but every now and then when the mood is right, rainy days hit the spot.  Today was one of those days.  This might be one of the more personal blogs I will share, which will also make it one of the more harder ones to share.

For those of you who have not shared anything artistic or personal – it is a lot harder than it looks.  It is basically putting your bleeding heart on display for the world to see and decide how they feel about it.  You may be wondering why then would I ever willing do that to myself.  Me too.  I blame my mother.  In the best way of course.  In the way we blame our mothers for feeling sick to our stomach after all of the delicious food they cooked for us.  My mother has told me two things recently that I have stuck with me.

First she told me to write more.  She is always encouraging me to keep writing, and more so to share my writing.  The truth is that probably only 20% of my writing ever makes it to this blog. It is too raw, too personal.  It is not the picture of a put together life that we have been taught we must constantly show.

The second thing my mother has told me is that we must allow ourselves to feel our emotions.  We must allow ourselves to grieve.  I have found that my heart will be sad whether or not I choose to acknowledge it.  However, the sooner I acknowledge it, the sooner I can move on.  Hearts, like youngest children, need a lot of attention.  (Did I just admit I need a lot of attention?  My siblings will never let me live that down . . . )

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