Come Out, Come Out, Wherever You Are

These are the days that are perfect. It's when everything is so bright and sunny and uncovered after the winter, coming out of hiding, that makes it all so beautiful. (The title comes from the Wizard of Oz, when the Munchins are in Munchin Land, waking up in their little flower beds.)I love seeing everything for the first time after the winter; and it's funny how the memories always linger. Conversations come back to me that I've forgotten, the birds come back, the people come out.
On Friday I was itching to wear something summer-y, so I decided on a pale flowy shirt, kind of girly, not my style at all. So I decided to wear my Converse sneakers with it, and that just made it all seem more like me. It was kind of pretty, kind of not, and it was perfect. I haven't been this happy in awhile, and I swear I couldn't stop smiling just to see people walking down the street, saying hi. And talking just makes everything seem so much lighter, so much better. I only we could have school outside and near a stream, with a small blackboard for the teacher to write on, perched on a rock. We'd all be sitting on rocks, and then when lunch came around we could have a picnic. I swear, people would learn more because we'd actually be learning AND be outside.But you know what was really perfect about this weekend?
The fact that I can leave my window open at night when it's not too cold, and I can just sit on my bed and feel a cool breeze against my just-washed, still-wet hair. It reminds me of summer.
Sometimes I wonder, if spring is really my favorite season after all, and not winter.

Lost in Time

Snow is like a time machine. Or a fossil, waiting to be discovered. But if you wait too long, a gust of wind will come and cover everything over again, as if nothing had happened there. Memories, sparkly and soft as powder, flying around the chilly tight air, resting somewhere new. Taking their stories with them.It's so interseting, all those footprints that leave remains of the past in the snow, those memories that could never have been seen in the summer. Like austronauts footprints on the moon; to those indents in the moon, it's still 1969. Or your dog's footprints from earlier this morning, his little scurries left behind him for the rest of the day.
Isn't it perfect and scary and amazing all at once?

The Painters

It's like they're still walking these floorboards, creeping up behind me, their stories flickering back to life, hitting me hard. It's like it was yesterday, me in baby blue standing under dusty lights in a freezing room, everything the color of navy, ice, and lace. I still see her paint-splattered sweatshirt and her tangled mahogany hair, standing on the porch, and letting her smoky breath curl out and turn to feathers on that freezing night.
Life inside is warm and freezing all at once, because you can see your breath, but still feel that heat of the lamp hovering over your head. Tubs of white paint perfuming the air, making me dizzy the slightest bit. Frozen fingers, lightened souls, all huddled under that same flickering pool of light, measuring out fate, and then cutting it for use.

Uber

I'm sorry. I'm hardcore about my music choice most of the year. I don't really need to listen to the new music all the time. I mean, I still like some of it, but it's just a lot more incredible to me to find some old 90's grunge song that's completely AMAZING. It's like digging for treasure, just on You Tube. But, when that certain time of the year starts creeping into my bones and tugging at my love strings, I have to listen to some Christmas music. No questions asked.
It's funny, 'cause a couple years ago I used to hate those people that start listening to Christmas music in freaking November. Ughhhh. I just didn't want anything to do with it. Christmas music can wait till, um, December 24 for me. But now here I am, listening to Carol of the Bells as I speak, on November 17, before Thanksgiving has even come yet. I guess I'm a hypocret (did I spell that right???).
So I actually started to secretly like it around two years ago at this time. We have this radio that only played one station, and at the time, it was Christmas music. Oh, goodie. Here we go.
Well, come to find out, I'm a sucker for anything Christmas-y that's on the radio. Forget Green Day! I want Frosty the Snowman!
There's just something about Christmas music that makes me almost a little lump-in-my-throat emotional. It's pretty embarassing. I have my reasons, though; a lot has happened to me during Christmas time, all good stuff, but it makes me teary-eyed. I dunno why.
My all-time favorite Christmas song is the Trans-Siberian Orchestra's version of Carol of the Bells. Love it.
You know, I should really just delete all this. But I won't.

Everchanging

Even when it feels as if the clock never ticks faster, and it's always winter, just remember that there's always a spring waiting for you around the corner. Things will feel better soon. Just remember that.

They will. I promise.