Spring has officially sprung. Winter's ghost is refusing to retreat, however; snow flurries were flying this morning when the kids left for school. I suppose the changing of seasons is difficult for Winter (the old hag), despite the fact that her fight is inevitably futile. But it's not today. The battle rages on. We all know who will win in the coming weeks, however. Spring's victory won't be denied for long… and neither will mine…
I'll be leaving later today for a four-day visit with the family in Virginia; I may even swing down to North Carolina and drop in on my brother for a night. That familiar restless feeling is creeping through my veins again, and like Spring, it will not be denied. Gas prices be damned.
The changing of seasons reminds me that we are not so different from nature. We have seasons, as well. Our seasons change when we gain wisdom, no matter how few the pearls. Some people dread and fear change; it is somewhat discomforting to abandon an old road for a freshly beaten path. It is definitely easier to swim in a familiar (even stagnant) pond than to venture into a vast sea of mystery. I try to keep in mind, however, that stagnant water attracts little more than malaria… Change is good. It is the fragrant spice of a bold and meaningful existence.
Although I know this, that familiar dread and fear still tug at my thoughts. In six weeks I'll have finally completed another degree; that's another season that will pass into history. I'm sure that change will come with it, although I am uncertain what it will be exactly. Uncertainly is what breeds fear, you realize. I am in the process of creating a rough draft of what I picture as the next season of our lives. My mental images are still somewhat hazy.
My solace lies in knowing that uncertainty will slowly but surely pass, just as all seasons do.