Thing #32: The light at the end of the tunnel

As we trudge on through the middle of February (the worst month after January), I find myself in my typical late-winter, pre-spring melancholy. I feel sad for no reason; the ambitious schedule seems impossible; I want to simultaneously drink wine (which I dislike in a way reserved for spicy foods and rainy runs), cry, and watch terribly sappy romantic movies. I hate February.

Yet (and yet), I find myself looking forward to the first 60 degree day with an almost reckless hope. I can smell the sweet scent of the air from open windows. My feet feel the freedom of comfy Rainbow flip-flops. I taste the first sweet bites of watermelon. Every inch of my body aches for the springtime sensations.

So, even though it seems impossibly far away after this abysmal winter (and let's not lie - it's been icky), I have hope for sunshine soon and the brief (even if proves imaginary) break in the hectic schedule. I cling to the coming spring as if it were my only life line. It is the light to which I walk - thankfully it is the light of life.