The outdoors have been calling me. So, not being one to dismiss a siren’s song, I have obliged. I have officially become a Midwesterner. I remember my first winter here, I would think those people wearing shorts in the snow were crazy. I am now that person. A few days lately, the temperature has been above 35 degrees. And 35 degrees is when I say it’s OK to run outside. In shorts. So the cold wind has whipped at my legs and I have dodged snow and ice and slush piles. But I’m outside.
I don’t pay for a shrink. But I have found my own therapies. They are puzzles and books and writing and baths and fresh air. Between the five of them, I don’t think there has been a mood that wasn’t bettered. Spring is coming. Walks with my son and my husband are right around the corner. Long Sunday runs will return. Lying in my hammock with a book will be back. I haven’t enjoyed the outdoors much the past two years – last year because Brandon was an infant and I was afraid to let his delicate skin into the sun too much. The year before that because I was pregnant and using it as an excuse to be lazy.
My body is craving the Vitamin D. My jimmy legs want to go wild and run. My white skin is praying for a bit of light.
The daffodils are peeking through the frosty dirt which always means spring isn’t too far off. I’m happy to see it, since I’ve already got spring in my step.