auspicious coincidence

Things have been good. Really good. Even the bad things have had their good elements, and for that, I am grateful. I'd felt the shift coming, but after so many weeks of my having been sucked into the habit of feeling bad, feeling uncomfortable, feeling depressed, it had seemed like too much to hope for. I liken it to the feeling I once had when entering in to a new relationship at the point where adolescence and adulthood meet, a "this is too good to last" sort of feeling, where I would count the days until my certain betrayal so as not to be caught off guard. If I am anything, I am vigilant. Some of you will know what I mean by that. Some of you will think I'm paranoid. So, there it was, the feeling of spring, the feeling of new beginnings, the feeling of pushing through last year's mucky dead leaves to poke out of the green to spy the fresh green leaves on the trees above. I was a tentative tendril, as I've said, beginning to poke out through the earth because I couldn't help but grow, but refusing to unfurl. But finally, like the bean sprouts we planted in shorn milk cartons from the school cafeteria that rested in the window of our elementary school classroom, I shot up and looked around at all the other plants on the sill. And, next year, when I return to the earth, what will happen? What events will transpire during the annual hibernation that will cause me to forget not to dread the future, not to dread change? I can't say. All I can tell you is that right now I am going to plant little reminders to myself that will crop up at unexpected times throughout the coming winter and next year's early spring, so that when I do forget, I'll at least those chances to remember.