Just This Once :: April 1st, 2002 ::
I stood at my living room window this evening, drinking a beer and watching the snow fall. Standing there, I remembered when I was growing up, it would snow at least once in April, and sometimes in May, too. I would get frustrated, clench my fists, and be impossible to get along with. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Because it was Spring. I wanted flowers. I wanted birds. I wanted that earthy smell and and that brown-green color of the lawn coming to life.
Sometime between the age of thirteen and now, I gave up caring so much about Spring. Maybe because Winter has become and progressively thinner season, or because I’ve grown to accept and appreciate the weather more. Maybe it’s because I’ve learned not to let the weather affect my disposition so much. But for whatever reason, I stood there, mesmerized by the showers, and I wasn’t lamenting the lost emotion of childhood.
That’s this time. Next time it snows in Spring, all bets are off.
