We’ve had a mild winter, and an especially mild February, including a few 70+ degree days. Yay! Well, I mean, aside from the whole the earth is dying part of it. I soaked up the sunshine and had my kiddos outside every minute possible before the cold (and snow!) came back late this past week.
See, spring refreshes me. The gradual warmth, the buds on the trees promising of new leaves and shade, the tulips popping through the dirt, the rain washing clean the salt and grime of winter. So this little taste we had of spring, has me cleaning house, donating and selling unused toys and random things, and doing a lot of introspection.
This past year was hard for me. We sold our house and bought a new one and then moved. My husband was working a lot of extra shifts at the fire station, which left me on mom-duty for days straight and my kids bawling for their daddy. And then fall came, and I began to breathe again, for it is my very favorite season. And then came winter, with its cloudy, gray, blistering wind, and my mood sank again.
I’ve been struggling with writing this whole time, from finding the time to finding the energy to finding the hope. I’ve been bouncing between a few projects, never able to stay committed for long, missing the community of other writers, but also wanting to hide under the covers alone. (My anxiety, always a companion)
This taste of spring, despite how brief is motivating me to spring clean more than just my house. I’m making lists and evaluating what things I do, what activities my kids are involved in, are truly beneficial. It’s time to take stock of what our life looks like, and what we want it to look like. I pride myself on being organized, but this past year hasn’t reflected that part of me. Some of that is situational, of course, because moving a household of four isn’t without hurdles.
It’s time to feel energized about my writing, to rededicate myself to why I’m doing it. To stop staring across the fence and getting discouraged by the green grass, but rather be invigorated by the dream of achieving the same.
Winter is hard, but spring is coming.