The weather is turning warmer…the kind of warmer that, when the sun goes down, you can still feel it in the air. It’s almost salty, despite living a thousand miles from any ocean. Our happy feelings come out of hibernation. Our souls fly like butterflies for the first time, so joyful and free, and a little uncoordinated. All because it’s spring, and there are flowers, and leaves, and green grass, and the sound of mowers in the morning from annoying neighbors. It’s so wonderful. And with it comes the restlessness.
Wanting to move forward, come alive, but feeling so dead inside. Winter still has a cold hand on something deep down….it froze so hard that it won’t thaw. Need a spark, a serious burst of energy to break it open and let the flame begin to flutter.
I can be beautiful and stark, and seem to fly free, and still be a prisoner. The walls may be of my own making, but that doesn’t mean I know how to deconstruct them. Seeing it from the outside, I look intriguing, content, and full of life. This is the surface. I am a bug, lit up, but a dirty little bug underneath the glowing warmth of light that surrounds me. And I’m trapped behind invisible glass.
Freedom is close enough to smell. I can feel it in the air, not tangibly…just a hint of something wonderful. I cannot see it, not yet. It’s there, though, out of reach. We will touch, we will wrap our bodies around each other and become something new and the restlessness will go away. The weather will stay warm, the flowers will not die, and life will become something no one has thought of yet. Sigh.
I can’t wait. I wish I knew how to get there. There is no map, the journey is supposedly more rewarding that way. Feeling around in the dark is ok, though, as long as the weather holds up.