Windswept
It's a very blustery day here - and as the temperature is in rapid decline it feels almost spring-esque here. [I don't think that's a word - but to be honest, I don't really care]. The weather is absolutely stunning today - with a damp chill in the air - but otherwise brilliantly sunny. On the way back to the office from a horrificly boring conference today, I had a flashback of sorts to a very specific moment, which really has no significance in and of itself to anyone but me.
It was early spring and my last "real" semester of college. I had just ended (sadly, only a temporary reprieve) an incredibly unhappy relationship and had skipped class to just be.
Fresh from the shower, I was laying on my bed nude (an oddity for a girl who was so insecure at that time about herself - and still am at times), the abutting window open to let in the spring air. My window looked out over a deep thicket of trees, and the melodious sound of sparrows chirping was the sweetest symphony I have ever heard. The wind was perfuming my tiny one bedroom apartment with the intoxicating scent of a pink hyacinth sitting on the windowsill in a hand-me-down crystal vase. I remember the lip was chipped on one side. The wind was billowing the creamy lace curtains over my face, and as they gently brushed my cheeks I remember feeling so blissfully happy... so content. I laughed as I watched the shadows splayed over the ceiling - as they seemed to dance with each gust. I contemplated the irony of this lace veil against the one that I had (seemingly) discarded.
Spring has always been my favorite season... cliched - yes, perhaps. But I adore that feeling of rebirth - of new opportunities - new beginnings. As each tulip and daffodil breaks free from the barreness of the winter, as each tree cloaks herself in bright hope of fruit, I felt my own sadness dissipate as the world slowly shrugs off the brisk touch of winter and moves on. Never, perhaps, have I more tangibly believed in a world of limitless opportunity - of hope - of innocent pleasure and beauty than I did that afternoon.
I cannot profess to know why our minds hold on to such moments - which are seemingly innocuous, unconnected to any other moment of deemed significance.
But that doesn't mean I can't be thankful.
I miss that taste of hopeful innocence. I miss that feeling of promise of a fruitful season to come.
It was early spring and my last "real" semester of college. I had just ended (sadly, only a temporary reprieve) an incredibly unhappy relationship and had skipped class to just be.
Fresh from the shower, I was laying on my bed nude (an oddity for a girl who was so insecure at that time about herself - and still am at times), the abutting window open to let in the spring air. My window looked out over a deep thicket of trees, and the melodious sound of sparrows chirping was the sweetest symphony I have ever heard. The wind was perfuming my tiny one bedroom apartment with the intoxicating scent of a pink hyacinth sitting on the windowsill in a hand-me-down crystal vase. I remember the lip was chipped on one side. The wind was billowing the creamy lace curtains over my face, and as they gently brushed my cheeks I remember feeling so blissfully happy... so content. I laughed as I watched the shadows splayed over the ceiling - as they seemed to dance with each gust. I contemplated the irony of this lace veil against the one that I had (seemingly) discarded.
Spring has always been my favorite season... cliched - yes, perhaps. But I adore that feeling of rebirth - of new opportunities - new beginnings. As each tulip and daffodil breaks free from the barreness of the winter, as each tree cloaks herself in bright hope of fruit, I felt my own sadness dissipate as the world slowly shrugs off the brisk touch of winter and moves on. Never, perhaps, have I more tangibly believed in a world of limitless opportunity - of hope - of innocent pleasure and beauty than I did that afternoon.
I cannot profess to know why our minds hold on to such moments - which are seemingly innocuous, unconnected to any other moment of deemed significance.
But that doesn't mean I can't be thankful.
I miss that taste of hopeful innocence. I miss that feeling of promise of a fruitful season to come.
posted by April at 3:00 PM
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