Second Spring

Green Leaves, Light Breeze

“My house is the smallest one on the block. It’s a latte-colored cottage. On the left.”

When was the last time that I had invited anyone over? 18 months, maybe more … I don’t know, sometime before the world we knew was gone.

The pandemic was a tectonic plate that heaved me aside. Before long, I was falling into a hole with no sides, no bottom, no sound, no light. A hole that wrapped itself around me and squeezed until the air left my lungs and my scream was silenced. My days became Jenga towers: despite gaping holes, still standing.

The hush of those weeks watered my soul.

I took walks, many walks. I began to feel free from the guilt of doing nothing. Autumn leaves fell away. Winter’s emptiness amplified clarity. And so, when the second spring arrived, I noticed how the sun shone, and the flowers bloomed, and the breeze swept across the skin of my bare arms, lifting the leaves in the trees.