That fierce longing

I woke up with a fierce hunger for Spring. If you've never experienced that, let me explain it to you:

Imagine you're in a room. A cold, white, sterile room, and you're sitting on a white metal chair. It's mostly quiet in the room, although for a little while you could hear soft, comforting music drifting in the air. The door to the room hasn't opened in months. The temperature is constantly a little below comfortable, even when you put on the the white, lifeless coat sitting next to you.

Now imagine the door to the room slowly creaks open.

It's only opened about 3 inches and it's too heavy to open further. You walk from your metal chair to the door and look out. The room outside of yours is vibrant and full of colors- soft and bright pinks, blues, yellows, and reds. There is a chair in that room also, only it's a big, plush chair with a soft knit blanket thrown over the back. The air in the room smells faintly sweet, and warm air drifts through the 3 inch crack every once in a while. You can hear music playing in the room- lively, happy, sweet music. Then just as you try to pry the door open further, it slowly begins to creak shut.

As suddenly as it opened, it closes. 


I've experienced this intense desire for Spring around this date every year for as far back as I can remember. 

It may be induced by the approaching holiday of Valentines Day. It may be brought on by the memory of excitement- a secretly decorated dining room and quietly prepared family feast, with flowers from Dad at our places. It may be the anticipation of knowing what little surprise has been placed under our over-turned plates. It may be the laughter and bright colors and atmosphere of joy. 

It may be induced by a lifetime in the South, where spring comes for a day bringing hope of its return and leaves in the night with ice in its wake. 

It may be induced simply by a preference for warmth, knowing that after Christmas it's only a matter of time before the cold retreats and open doors can let in the soft warm breeze of spring.

Regardless of the cause, I've never been able to let go of the annually way-too-early desire for spring.

This year it's enhanced by knowing new experiences are at my fingertips. I'm excited to witness the famous tulip fields bursting into life. To gaze at clear blue skies and cotton clouds and endless lines of hill-less roads. To see the North Sea and walk the high dunes on a sunny day. To stroll the street markets of Amsterdam, not chilled by the icy wind but urged on by the smells of waffles wafting through the cobblestoned streets and bouquets being sold by the basketful.

I'm so ready for spring.

But until the weather warms and the skies clear, I'll create my own colors and fill my windows with flowers.