I long for the sun to pierce the wind and go straight into my bones. To seep into every vein and drive out the lethargy of these long months. To smell the musty earth and feel the soft new grass and fuzzy young leaves that slowly change the brown trees to green. I want to cut the tall daffodil stalks and bring their bright yellow beauty into my home and be rid of the feeling of gray. To walk and run and play and swing, to dig and plant and weed and water.
I'm grateful I have the promise of spring to look forward to. No matter how tired or discouraged I get, the spring inevitably comes - each year and after each of life's winter seasons of hardship. It's a beautiful promise.
So I look forward. Not with a perfect brightness of hope, but hope.