Winter is not a shock to me either. In the northeast, cold and snow are to be expected, but not like this. This is a soul-crushing sort of winter.
I think EJ feels it too. We've been cooped up for what seems like eons...and mind you, I work full-time and still feel this way. He and I are bored. We've played with all the toys/games and done the crafts (and unfortunately, that idea pool is limited...a two-year-old ain't playing Candyland or doing decoupage). EJ's grandma even got him into baking, and he had a pretty good run with that. Unfortunately, he ate nothing he created, so I got stuck eating cookies and muffins that I knew had eggshells and sneezes in them. I put the kibosh on that activity four pounds into January. Soon after, the game "Blanket" became a hit. For about 45 or so minutes, EJ would either cover me in a blanket and run in for hugs, or roll himself in it and walk around like some sort of Grecian philosopher. I don't know what the allure was, but it sure helped pass the time.
And then February hit. The temperature stayed in the single digits. The skies were perpetually gray. The blanket game became stale for EJ, as did some other favorites like pretending to pencil in his toddler furniture. A week into the month, our morale was sunk and our crankiness escalated.
But, something happened today while I stayed home to nurse EJ back to health after his tenth cold. We'd been awake since four, so by eight, I could tell he wanted to hit up the Dunkin' Donuts drive-thru for a large coffee, I mean a treat for himself, and I decided to oblige him.
As we walked through the frozen tundra to our car, I squinted my eyes. Wait a minute. What was that color? Blue. And that bright thing? The sun. In the car, the thermostat read 20 degrees. A radio announcer said something about March Madness. I thought I was hearing things. At dusk, when I closed the blinds, I realized it was well after five o'clock. Eureka.
These simple, unrelated things are all faintly whispering "Spring." It is coming. It is coming, and it's bringing with it renewal and freedom and fun and hope and warmth. And this year, I won't wait for the clocks to change, or a certain temperature, or a certain date to say Spring has arrived. I'll know it's here when the whispers become louder and more self-assured. I know it will be a while, but for now, in the monotony and drudgery of Febrrary, I'll scour the scenery for signs and just listen.
