When spring and life are new

Tuesday fun at TWT!

"What do you see?" Through the rearview mirror, I can see Little Sweetie's ever-curious pointer finger declaring that she has made yet another amazing discovery in the world. "Do you see the trees? They're starting to turn green now." The past few months of narrating every detail of the world in response to one tiny, inquisitive finger have me so well-trained that the words just roll off my tongue in a dreamy, absent-minded way... until I realize what I just said. Wait! The trees are turning green!

"Yes! Look! The trees are turning green now because it's spring, Sweetie!" Suddenly, the blurry edges of the world whipping by us become more than just visual white noise. 

I see the trees too. 

I see the fragile leaves bravely pushing to open themselves to the wide world. I see the delicate white flowers barely emerging from buds on fruit trees across the road. I see the brilliant blue sky stretching endlessly above us like a benevolent swath of freedom and hope, and I see the crisp shadows painted around us by the sun's friendly light.

I recall the joy of the awards ceremony we're driving home from: elegant dresses and twisted hair, crisply knotted ties and spotless shirts, warm hugs and proud handshakes. This is the season of celebration and hope, the season of sweet, satisfied breaths absorbing rejuvenation and resilient, confident shoulders rising tall. 

This is the season when new beginnings emerge, graceful and blossoming, from the gritty struggle of fall and winter. 

The words of one of my favorite springtime poems start to cycle through my head: "In time of silver rain / the earth puts forth new life again..."

New buds. New life. Green, growing hope.

"... when spring / and life / are new." Thank you, Langston Hughes, for capturing what springtime really means.