au printemps

I used to think that I didn't have a favorite season.  When I was little, I was compelled to claim winter as my own, because after all, winter wrapped Christmas and stockings and carols and my birthday all into one stretch of months.  But then there was summer, all sun and heat and sweat and tan skin amidst the shining absence of schoolwork -- how could I not enjoy the leisure time that was so blatantly missing from my usual life? And then there was autumn, when a new school year was still fresh and exciting, when the leaves turned red and gold and orange, when I could practically hear the announcer of a high school football game in the back of my head at all times.  Autumn, when I welcomed in the crisp, rustic air to replace the thick, humid lethargy of August, when I marveled at the sudden beauty of the world that surrounded me.

But how can I explain the feeling of truly seeing the sun for the first time in months, feeling its rays caress your skin like a kiss from a long-lost lover? How can I explain the feeling of stepping outside and feeling as if nothing in the world can be wrong, the connotations of the warmth stirring excitement for the things to come in the pit of your stomach? How can I explain the feeling of the air greeting you with an embrace rather than the cold bite of iciness? How can I explain the way that the heavy layers of stress peel away from your body to reveal something both vulnerable and anxious to emerge the moment that the smell of spring tickles your nose?

I don't think words could ever adequately explain the way that spring makes me feel, nor why it is that the more springs that I experience, the more certain I become that it is in this season that my loyalty belongs.  I think the only thing that could possibly explain that for me is feeling the first rays of sun, seeing the first strokes of lovely blue sky, smelling the air that is thick with new life and promise, for yourself.

I hope you feel new, just like I do.

photo via valeriemonthuit @ deviantart