March 7, 2013
In Between Time
It seems like we have more snow now than we've had all winter. We've gotten it inch by inch and sometimes, like Tuesday, several inches in a day. Though the blanket of snow is deep in the yard in front of our building, the sun lingers until nearly six o'clock in the evening. The birds are becoming more and more vocal and this weekend we will turn the clocks to make the daylight last even later. Everything looks like winter but there are so many hints of spring.
I'm happy to stay cozy inside and nestle under a down comforter at the end of the day but then I think it will be equally nice when we can sleep with the windows open and the smell of summer air. I am eager to take more walks when the sidewalks are free of treacherous patches of ice but I also wouldn't mind going for another cross country ski. We're still working our way through food that I froze and canned last summer but I look forward to trips to the farmers' market in flip flops.
I find it hard to let go and just be in this in between time. I want to hold on to what we have now: the light of late winter, the sparkling flakes, and hearty meals. But I am eager for the slow emergence of spring with warmer days and buds on the trees. I find myself holding onto a river bank, resisting the current as it tries to carry my little vessel downstream. I'd like to release this tension, to be freed from clinging to things that must change and to simply appreciate what each day brings.
Perhaps my wish to hold off inevitable change and the anticipation of everything that is coming can't be helped. Regardless of the season or the weather, we are anticipating the arrival of our baby in three months while trying to make the most of the time we have now. Yesterday, I scanned the calendar and noted the remaining weeks, mentally calculating how much there is to do and how quickly time will slip by. Maybe I'm not feeling the push and pull of the changing seasons. Maybe it is the tension between known, familiar, comfortable and the big changes that lie ahead. I aim to stop holding on for dear life or calculating how little free time I will have, I want to sit in the boat and go where the river takes me.