Seven days

A lot can change in seven days. Especially if you’re The Weather, and you’re in Southern Maryland.

For example, this was the tree in our front yard seven days ago.

It was well below freezing outside. It was the heaviest snow we’ve had in years. YEARS. Last year we barely got flurries. It was the second day of March. We had no electricity.

And this was our tree today — seven days later.

Our Bradford pear is on the verge of blossoming pretty white pear blossoms. Funny-smelling pear blossoms. When the blossoms wither and drop, it will look sort of romantic and snowy in a funny-smelling flower petally sort of way. Not like seven days ago.

It was up to seventy degrees today. SEVENTY. I wore a skirt and light jacket to work, after months of jeans and tights under jeans and wool sweaters and long sleeved shirts under those wool sweaters, and wool coat. And boots. And mittens. And scarves. And okay, it’s not really *that* cold in Southern Maryland in the winter (except for seven days ago), but I’m a wimp about the cold so please don’t ridicule me too much. Anyway, getting to wear a skirt and cute shoes made me feel more voluptuous and womanly and less like the Michelin Man. I was able to turn off the heater, and keep my socks off of my cold-sensitive feet long enough to file and polish my toenails — and let the polish dry completely. My toenails are now a delightful spring-like shade of Hibiscus Happiness. And I’ve enjoyed it, thankyouverymuch, because seven days from now, who knows what the weather will bring.

In case I don’t make it

I might just go insane before the end, before May arrives and my master’s project is done, and I’ve flopped in more 5Ks and I’ve picked out flooring and decided what to do about the sinking floor upstairs and that stupid wall in the middle of the house, and then found the money for it, and then set my sights on more goals. *exhale* Before I finish making decisions and being creative, and putting out idea after idea after idea after idea and written word after word after word, and tried to make it make sense to someone, somewhere, hopefully, I think, maybe. *inhale* So just in case it happens, in case the dizziness doesn’t stop, in case I really do lose my mind, I just wanted to say hello, goodbye, I love you, remember me fondly and tell friends and strangers alike, “I knew her when.” *exhale*

Gratefulness

Yesterday was like a whirlwind of emotion. I’ve been up and down all week, for no particular reason (stress?) – until yesterday, as I was reading an article about gratefulness: the phone rang and what I heard was like a blow to the chest. Everything came crashing down and puddled into one, very strong sense of sadness. But the longer I stayed on the phone, the more apparent it became that the sadness we all felt was not a result of the events themselves: it’s the kind of sadness you feel when someone you love has done something that leaves you feeling hurt, but even more concerned for him. You’re sad because you know the great things he’s capable of.

My head is still spinning, but I need to pull myself up by my metaphorical bootstraps; I can’t go around moping forever. It seems easier when all the negative feeling stems from one, concrete event. You can start problem-solving, looking on the bright side, and move on. But this case of the blues calls for a bigger weapon. It calls for gratefulness. Gratefulness for little things.

Little things like wearing slippers at work, and The Nutcracker Suite. Monthly calendars, and colored Sharpies to cross the days off as they pass. Warm hugs on cold days, and iron-free pants. The Calvin and Hobbes cartoon Jen gave me that’s taped to the top of my monitor and makes me laugh every time. Ibuprofen. Whitespace. Interrobangs and asterisks. Made-up words and portmanteaus. Kneading bread. Decorating the Christmas tree. Lacy snowflakes and the shape of trees. A husband who doesn’t mind reaching the top shelf for me. Knowing that the distress is only temporary, that the sun will shine tomorrow. Being surrounded by people who demonstrate unconditional love. A brother who is my oldest friend. Knowing love in spite of loneliness, a sense of purpose amid confusion. Finding that smiling is far easier than it seems, and that laughter can cure almost anything.