There is something hopeful about March sun. There is sun in February too. But there is something hopeful about March sun. The early flowers that open to it agree with me. They make me laugh with joy that I am in such good company. Me and the flowers. March promises a waking up and a reaching out.
There is a reason for the seasons. The hibernation of winter lets me go completely inside my heart. While there, I tend to its scars and slow down enough to remember all of the sadness. In the sadness, are the memories of all who have moved on. All who have passed from this light and into another light.
And, as I write this, I can see that the March sun is filled with those I love. My puppy got up just now and moved from his cave-like bed under my desk and into the squares of March sun that decorate our plain beige carpet. He is watching now. Dust maybe or my mom or John or Lynn or Kathleen or Herbie.
March sun is filled with warmth. I move next to my puppy. I feel motivated to uncurl from my spot on the couch and get out into it all. Instead of a nap, a walk. Instead of a snack, a glass of water. Instead of passive, active. My seltzer bubbles on the table next to me as I make a promise to the flowers. I will open to the sun. There will be more cold for sure but I will merely close- temporarily. I will not head back under ground. In touch with myself again because of the winter, I head out to get back in touch with the world.
Me and the flowers. Such good company. Both of us out in the hope of March sun.