I love winter - for about two months. Three at the most. By the end of February, I am ready for spring. The grey skies, chilly weather (if not downright bitter cold) and general dreariness of the post-holiday weeks collect in my soul like a cancer. I don't want to get out of bed. I don't want to go out for a walk. I don't want to go to work. I don't want to do much of anything. I do, of course, because otherwise the paychecks evaporate and my friends and family start looking at me in alarming ways, but I gradually become a grouchy, cranky mess as February progresses.
The last week has been a mix of rain, sleet, wind, and a sky the color of steel. You can imagine my joy and surprise, therefore, when I awoke this morning to a most glorious sight. The sun had returned. I walked out my front door, and realized that unlike the past few months, the sun this time had brought with it a wonderful friend, warmth. I stood in my parking lot, my arms out, facing the sun, and exulted for a moment as the first timid waves of spring washed over me. It was wonderful. I think as I drive home tonight, the sunroof will be open. It's just too damn nice to not take full advantage.
I know in another week it will again be sleeting, and grey, and cold. But for now, for this one moment, this one day, it is sunny, and warm, and alive. Enjoy.