Dreaming of May

I might have been a little harsh yesterday when I said that I hate spring.

It's not all of spring.  It's most of spring.

Spring in Colorado is weird, firstly.  It snows up until Mother's Day, and sometimes beyond.  You have these days that are cold and grey and slushy and snowy, but then the next day is sunny and warm and breezy (but not like today where the winds were like hurricane force and blowing grit into EVERYTHING and I do mean everything) and the flowers are blooming.

Only for it snow again.  And then you wind up with daffodils sticking up hopefully in like four inches of snow.

Seriously, how do things not die out here?  I've been here since 2005, at age 15, and I still don't understand how the spring stuff doesn't die.

But May is actually a really hopeful time for me.  I've been pretty wrapped up in sad recently (and yes, I do suffer from that SAD too - the seasonal crap that makes everything hurt, though this sad has been different, and I just realized I'm totally rambling my sentences) that I kind of slammed everything together.

It happens.

May is when the snow finally finishes up.  Usually.  May is when my anniversary with the most wonderful man on the planet is, and May will soon be when our wedding will take place.  (Next year, and it somehow simultaneously wonders, amazes, delights, and terrifies me.)  

May is my sister's birthday and a good reminder that she didn't die last year but got help for her suicide attempt.  I am very pleased to report that while she has left our home to live with her fiance, she is doing incredibly well.  She just started school to become a massage specialist to help people heal.

May is when school gets out and when I can then decompress for three glorious months of pool time and sleeping in and not writing papers about statistics or science experiments that didn't work the way they should.  And trust me, I need that.  I am so beat down right now, it's not even funny.  I consider not leaving in the middle of my chemistry class today to be a success.

So maybe I was a little harsh on spring. 

I came to the conclusion today during some free time that spring is really not what any of us think it should be.  The stores will have you believing that spring is this beautiful, soft time of pastels and chicks and rabbits and happiness.

It's not.

Spring is the labor that pushes the year into bloom.  It is hard work growing things.  It is hard work surviving.  There are storms everywhere and slush and grey but also little green sprouts and the hope of flowers.

I think I am finally learning that if I can get through the pain, the hard work, and survive the storms, I will be okay.

So I'm going to be here, having sad days mixed with my good days, dreaming of May.

~Meaghan