It snowed over  6” yesterday. It looks exactly like every child’s dream of Christmas morning…it’s just 3 months too late.

Spring was swelling; filling with blood. The New Year was slowly becoming engorged with life. Throbbing again after a long winter of stillness.

As is always the case, there was pain behind the throbbing. The tight, rubbery tissues complain as they are stretched by the rush of blood, like a water balloon is stretched by water. They are always bitter after a long winter, and do not let go of their cold tightness easily.

Spring Time aches.

It puts a grimace on your face.

Spring Time stings.

It  *SMACKS* and turns red…deep breath, and then a loud cry.

Face breaking water’s surface, bulging eyes and shrieking lungs.

Life rushes back just in the nick of time.

Spring was stirring. And in response God dumped tons of ice on it.

Fourth Spring since I was born.

Third Spring since she died.

Second Spring since she left.

First Spring on my own.

But it’s not here yet. God said, “Not yet. Back in the house, boy.”

I feel his hand on the top of my head, pushing it back down under the winter water. The familiar cold returns.

I see his face through the widening gap of water that separates us. He is smiling. Not with joy, or delight. Certainly not with pleasure at my suffering. But with a knowledge that only he possess: The day that Spring will return to stay.