"March bustles in
on windy feet
And sweeps my doorstep and my street.
She washes and cleans with pounding rains,
Scrubbing the earth of winter stains.
She shakes the grime from carpet green
Till naught but fresh new blades are seen.
Then, house in order, all neat as a pin,
She ushers gentle springtime in."
- Susan Reiner, Spring Cleaning
And sweeps my doorstep and my street.
She washes and cleans with pounding rains,
Scrubbing the earth of winter stains.
She shakes the grime from carpet green
Till naught but fresh new blades are seen.
Then, house in order, all neat as a pin,
She ushers gentle springtime in."
- Susan Reiner, Spring Cleaning
Winter
brings a sense of “coorie doon” (settling in or battening down)…a time to rest
the spirit from the bustle of the dying year. For we who are widowed it seems
also a time learn to find our way within the sadness that dwells deep in our
bones…to work through the sorrow that keeps us wrapped within the hollow of our
hearts.
Spring, or
the hope of it, awakens the anticipation of something tantalizingly unseen just
around the next corner. We have survived the bones of winter and watch for that
first greening that welcomes life back into both the land and into our souls.
There is a
burst to Spring…the seemingly all at once bloom to things that says “here I
come”. It stirs the blood and tingles the brain with anticipation. It is a time
also of confusion….winter…spring…no winter…no spring…the back and forth of
light and dark, cold and the promise of the warmth to come.
We widowed
folk also are a lot like that. Having come to terms with what we’ve lost, we
fight to find what we can gain. New life comes hard. There is a certain comfort
to the sorrow we cocoon ourselves within. But, just as the caterpillar metamorphoses
from its womb of silk as the butterfly, so must we also free ourselves from the
web of death back into the sunlight of living.
As Spring
grows green and retirement approaches reality, I feel the stirring of that urge
that to run I seem to have inherited from my dad…a growing need to move, move,
move. (could be it’s a Spring Equinox thing…but, it’s there nonetheless.)
New vistas
await and I am restless for the adventure to begin.
80 days
and counting…..
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