I do not think this has ever happened to me before. In years past, the end of winter's darkness has seemed like a cruelty. I have concluded that my ancestors were probably mole people, all of whom deeply resented being pulled from the cozy darkness each year, out into the uncomfortable light of spring.
But THIS year ... this year is different. Something happened during a long and winter of our discontent. Some unseen battle was fought. Something I could feel, but only as the thing passed by. The only way I knew was that the wind moved my hair around a little. Some small change in the sound of the worlds - a modulation of the key in which the universe sings. Something, I know, has happened.
So here I am. Monday morning. A PLA essay to finish. Housework calling. Reading to do. Ancient Faith playing on the computer after my morning dose of NPR's Morning Edition. Three fat, over-confident and brazen "wild" deer in the front yard are eating the grass and new leaves. The sun is proving that it was not a dream, and there really are more colors in the world than the one implacable color of this past winter.
Something has happened. The world is waking up again, and so am I.