I peered out my open window as I lay in my bed. I’m in no rush today and want to lounge as long as possible. The season is changing, and for the first time I am hesitant of the switch. Winter has felt safe – nestled inside under blankets, just the three of us, familiar. My beloved spring has felt like Mom ripping back my blankets and telling me I’m going to be late for school. I’m uncomfortable with this change and prefer to be bundled in safety.
As buds bloom, robins nest, baby bunnies nibble and the grey turns blue and gold, I sense that I must join the activity. I must unwrap and dress for civilization. This is an uneasy task after an extended hibernation. I’m unrehearsed with interactions outside my routine. I feel as if I have forgotten social courtesies – something that was second nature to me. Peeling back the layers feels similar to undressing: vulnerable to glares and criticism. Will they notice that I am reluctant and distant? Will they think that I am odd or overly fearful? The shame of it all makes me hug my blankets closer, wanting to watch the season change from my bedroom window…
…but the breeze catches me and motions to come near. Enticed, I fold open my blanket, revealing my legs to the air. I swivel my body until my toes touch the carpet. The breeze brushes my face. I close my eyes, wanting to heighten the sensory experience. I envision the breeze curl around me (like my blanket), and with its magic lift me to my feet and draw me to my window. I slide the glass as far as it can go, and centre myself like a portrait in the window frame welcoming the warmth of the weather to melt away my desire to hibernate. I am still, allowing what is inevitable to expand my familiar little world beyond my indoor comfort. I feel a shift taking place inside of me. The dazzling view of green leafy branches and the sun feathered in cotton wings entices me more and more. “Maybe it’s not so bad! It sure is nice,” and like the baby robins perched on the edge of their nest flap their untested wings, courage rises within me. I step away from the window, undress and slip into shorts and a t-shirt. I make my way to the backyard entrance, and with two hands gripped on the handle I fling the door open, advance to the yard letting spring know, “I’m here and ready to join!” And with that, spring embraced my announcement.
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