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| Guest Columnist | Harry M. Covert | Hayden Duke | Jason Miller | Ken Kellar | Patricia A. Kelly | Edward Lulie III | Cindy A. Rose | Richard B. Weldon Jr. | Brooke Winn |


Advertise on the Tentacle

March 5, 2009

Winterís Release

Patricia A. Kelly

Our first snow finally arrived and departed, just in time for spring. I’d been waiting for a real snow, accompanied by cold weather that lasted a few days.


Even this one, the best so far, didn’t quite make it, leaving my street and steps completely dry after only a few hours, but it was quite gorgeous for awhile.


It’s certainly been cold enough, though, another requirement of winter for me. I have a theory that it kills a lot of germs, and allows us to start over in the spring.


For me, it’s been a tough winter. My former husband, of 20 years, and three friends have died. I’ve been working toward a reinvented career, so have been more isolated than usual, probably not the best thing. I’ve lost another very special friend. I’ve developed a little discomfort in my hands that I didn’t have last year.


Life is a wonderful, frustrating, tiresome, exciting, amazing gift. As long as we have it, it seems normal and forever, something to take for granted while we cope with what’s thrown our way.


We complain about our job until we don’t have one.


We try to figure out what the hell is really going on in Washington, or we try not to.


We complain, and rightly so, about the trash passers-by leave on the sidewalk.


We complain about other drivers.


In winter, we wrap up in warm clothing in front of the television instead of painting the hallway.


We put off inviting people over for dinner. What, move the old newspapers off the dining room table?


We assume that tomorrow will be soon enough to visit an old friend, clean out the closet, write that letter, lose 10 pounds, start to exercise, etc.


In my garden, a few green stems are poking their way out of the dirt, again. This weekend’s promised warmth will lead into days and days of beautiful spring weather. The world, however shaky, will bloom again.


Death and rebirth is the old, recurrent theme; but, as we sometimes forget, all too frequently with different players. We have our recurring life cycles, but we don’t have tomorrow.


Today is the only day. Thanks to my departed friends for reminding me. I won’t forget. I’ll think of you when the flowers bloom.


Yellow Cab
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