A Call for Spring

Will winter last forever? As we near the end of March, I can only hope that spring will show its face sometime in April, because (and I'm sure you feel the same way), I can't take it anymore. There's something about winter that wears on you, that pulls at the corners of your soul and drags you down. Maybe it's the bitter cold and the way it nips and chews at your skin, the way it locks you indoors. Maybe it's the several hundred layers you need to pile on if you dare to leave your house. Maybe it's the snow and ice drenched roads, causing you to ponder the sum total of your life's accomplishments every time you leave the house. I suppose it could be the infuriatingly dry air (both indoors and out) that causes your hair to buzz and crackle and your skin to dry and crack like a sun baked desert. It could be the mind numbing abundance of grey. Either way, the magic twinkling of Christmas has long since passed and all we are left with now is the cold and the dreariness.
I imagine when spring finally does arrive, the peoples will stagger forth from their houses, arms outstretched like the thirsty reaching out for rain. Just as spring causes the seemingly dead trees and plants to burst forth with fresh blooms and greenery, we too will be as the dead coming back to life. That is, if it ever arrives. With each passing day we grow more hopeful and more depressed. It isn't here today, perhaps it will show up tomorrow? We're like a lonely old man, continually checking the mailbox for letters, or the window for a visitor.
Do you remember the story of Rip Van Winkle? I wish I could go to sleep and wake up when spring arrives. Although, in a way, I guess I am asleep. How else can you describe the sort of sleepwalking we all seem to be doing? We're shut down, waiting for spring to wake us up again. But it can't be much longer. It may not have shown up today, but maybe tomorrow...