What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again. (from Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins)
Winter in the northeast was mild this year—considerably milder than last year when this Texas transplant felt like she was frozen over heart and soul. I remember that when the first flowers began to bloom last year I was overwhelmed by a sense of relief. Life washed over me in waves of cheerful color, mild fragrance, the sound of birds singing. The heaviness and dirtiness and emptiness of winter peeled back to reveal renewal and hope and promise. This year, I feel it less acutely, but not less significantly. There’s no other way to say it—I love spring. And I need it. I need the hope it brings and the freshness. I need clusters of dandelions that make me believe in possibilities. I want bright tulips and daffodils to remind me that warmth follows austerity. That all of life flows through seasons and changes. I think we all need that.