I feel like I'm breathing a different air lately. Late winter, it was getting heavy and stale and, on so many days, I woke to grayness, a foggy light barely peeking past the sheer curtain panels by my bed. In my head, "another day?" I was running out of patience with winter, with myself.
But lately, we're getting light well into the evening. We're going outside before naps, after naps. When it turns even warmer, we'll go out for ice cream after dinner (those are my absolute favorite nights). Leave the dishes, let's go! We drove by our favorite ice cream place yesterday. Steve said, "It's open!" Sure enough the sign read like a beacon of hope: Spring is here. Come on in.
Lindsey is already telling me how excited she is for those early Saturday morning bike rides we do. So am I. William's started track and comes home in the shorts he wore to practice. Mind you, it's only topping out at about 55 right now, at best, but the resilient teenage boy wears shorts once the snow is gone and don't tell him otherwise. I don't. It's shorts! And shorts means summer and I don't, won't, can't, never will fight signs of summer.
My car read 63° yesterday. The car was sitting on the hot driveway but I saw it, my eyes grew large, and what did I do? What any human living in the Northeast (or Minnesota, poor Minnesota, getting feet of snow as we speak) would do. I took a picture and texted it to my family. Wide-eyed emoticon face accompanied it. No words necessary.
Steve and I were running errands yesterday and on the way home I asked him to stop by our favorite farm stand for steak tips and string beans. This dinner signals summer. It's not that steak or string beans is a particularly summer thing but I never make it in the winter. And as we're out and about, we run into people we know, familiar faces that we've seen less, coming out of coffee shops and they all these telltale smiles on their faces. We're all coming out of hibernation. It feels so damn good, I can't even describe it.