Like forcing leaves in a vase, I walked outside today and stood on the rocks in my bare feet.
I think it must be how everything feels in this season: an aching desire to grow, to be green, to peel off all the old layers and dive naked into the water; to be a free, wild thing.
I spent the rest of the day working on my taxes. And that feels like a forced branch, too: it’s still winter– or, at least, it’s not spring yet, not for a while. You can’t fake the math, you can only take a look at what’s in front of you, check each box and try not to glance up every three seconds to see if the beautiful future is Now yet.
When I turned around, the ground was sodden with melt under my foot (it made me shriek with surprise). I left one wet footprint on every other step all the way back into the house.