I Dream of Spring
Just before I wake up, I've been dreaming that it's spring. I notice it's spring because everyone's wearing light pretty dresses and the sun is warm on my arms and shoulders and forehead and we're outside in the grass eating strawberries or something lovely like that. It's that perfect, cool, breezy warm. And I'm happy.
For some reason our house has been toastier in the morning, and I feel so cozy under our faux-down comforter that I believe it's spring. I think about what to wear to work, and I have to remind myself that it's chin-freezing cold outside, that there's a three-inch layer of ice on our driveway and sidewalk, that I must incorporate tights into my outfit or die.
And still, I don't believe it. I think, but it was just sunny and springy, wasn't it? Self, I say, that was a DREAM. Give it up already.
And still, at the end of the day, when I'm trying to steer the cold wheel with the tips of my fingers and avoid crashing into the massive banks of snow and ice that line every road, I think: Maybe it will be warmer tomorrow. It's almost spring, right? We've been doing this winter thing for quite awhile.
Self, I say, we're not even close. We haven't even officially reached the other side of January. Keep dreaming.