Lost in my notebook
Short, dark days are forgotten, melted away under the sun.
Happy Friday! Today I was inspired during a break, picked up my pen and here we are. Winter’s ending and the transformation is beautiful.
The end of winter is punctuated as though it’s a long, confusing sentence—stopping and starting before finally coming to a definitive end. Beyond the boundaries of your page, these punctuations appear not as commas, semicolons, dashes, and quotations; they’re formed from rays of warm sunshine, patterned fabric, broad smiles, and buds on the ends of empty branches.
This morning, the conclusion feels close. Winter has made her point and is building to a crooked crescendo, and we’re ready—impatient for a pause to breathe. It wasn’t long ago that I was lost in Winter’s long, weaving tale, wondering when her cold, harsh words would thaw. Life can be hard enough without her freezing you solid. But today, under a blue sky—perhaps bluer than ever—those short, dark days are forgotten, melted away under the sun.
Smiles replace scarves, long trench coats are swapped for full terraces. But even without these visible signs, and perhaps without the touch of the warm sun, I could tell that change is in the air. There’s a new scent in the air, sweet and intoxicating.
“Hey, good morning,” she says, in her rose-patterned summer dress.
“Good morning.”
“Nice weather, hey?”
“Very nice. Spring has sprung.”
“I hope so.”
Usually, I’d call that small talk. But today, it’s anything but. It’s five lines of clarity—more honest than an hour of confessional, truer than physics, prettier than a great piece of art.
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