Spring (emotional) willing for warmer days.

Ahhh....The first day of spring. A vernal equinox, which in a name, is quite disappointing. That sounds like something with a lit scope in a gastric-entomologists' hand. I would rather call it the fuzzida beginus, you know...The first full moon to cast a milky glimmer over the water.

There is a tremendous amount of pressure to feel bloomy and beautiful when the world reawakens. I still feel sleepy with long nights and old pains. I too wish the air was warm enough to radiate back to me, but instead it is cold.

So I put on a scarf of love today. I put on a warm sweater of hope to protect my heart. I put on some boots to wade through the heavy high shallowness of others. I slip on my mittens to ward off the chill of being forgotten. I beckon them to hold it together one more time, to conceal my callous.

I imagine, instead, that I am soft and warm laying on a messy pile of gently-worn belongings. Occupiers of my heart's closet. I take each one out, re organize and bargain myself to not throw them, but I do. "Fear of unknown t-shirt that is faded and torn", "silly-love jeans with too many strings fraying" or "yellow, worn rain-coat for crying". Gone. Dust lifting and recollecting on the sides of where my bare feet have made a path.

The air is trying. Warmness baits me to be better, to look forward, to be gentle with the changing of every season. The hope of it entices me to lean in with my face, both hands behind me to steal a kiss from a hot day ahead.

I hang on. Despite the impending snow and cold. I hang on with faith. A building belief that willing good things can level the fear of empty and refill the open spaces with love.