spring things

as i’m sure anyone in chicago will tell you, this has been a long winter.

and this has been a slow-moving spring.

you can see the hesitation in the soil, in every tree branch, in the sporadic presence of birds. buds waffling in their pods, some sneaking out only to cower back. the bright flowers that shot out weeks ago now hang their heads in shriveled shame. the seeds we haughtily planted in our plot are still hibernating in the cold earth and i’m not sure we’ll ever see them again.

i don’t blame them. i’m hesitant too.

this has been a long winter.

it’s been a solitary season, a season of loss, a season of doubt.

there have been beacons of light in this haziness, to be sure. my marriage is sweeter and closer than it’s ever been, the happiness i find in being a mother deeper, my love for edie intensified, my appreciation for my family at large and the good, good Lord magnified. motherhood is teaching me what it truly means to love someone through the good and the bad. sleepless nights, tantrum filled days, bouts of illness, existential crises with a not-entirely-verbal creature turn the soil of my own soul, dig up my own selfish and self-consumed nature.

so i’ve been putting down deep roots of gratitude. 

and even so, i’m hesitant to stick my head above the ground. hesitant to hope, with these fierce winds still blowing, the cold still clinging to our bones, the deceit of the sun on frigid days.

 

we’ve been reading lots of books about gardening all winter and edith has a fascination with roots. when we talk about going to the garden she asks to “look at roots”. its hard to explain that we can’t see the roots. or, at least, we can’t see the roots without tearing up the plants.

the buds, the sprouts, the seedlings, the plants give us confidence in good roots down below.

while the good roots down below need confidence to push up the buds, the spouts, the seedlings, the plants.

let’s hope for confidence.