It’s raining and cold, again. Yesterday, it was warm and sunny. It’s been a roller-coaster for the past month. Actually, it’s been a roller-coaster all winter and fall- those seasons tend to blur anyway. If my emotions were contingent on the weather, I would be a bona fide basket case.
I was sitting on my bed the other day, as I do often in my apartment, because it’s the warmest and coziest spot in the place. I was sitting and looking out the window at the cherry tree that has stood bare for the past four months. When I looked closer at its branches, I noticed that they each had a little bud at the end, beginning to open. New life is slowly and quietly unveiling itself. I hadn’t really noticed this tree until I saw these little flower buds. Now, I find myself checking up on them every time I pass the window. I like watching them to see how they are growing and changing. It’s a bit nerdy, but I’m excited for these buds to bloom into their beauty.
I feel as though something is growing and budding in me. Not like a baby, people, please. I haven’t been that busy in Portland. I feel as though parts of me have vanished and fallen away, parts of me that I love. The loss of those pieces has left me feeling empty and numb this past season. I haven’t felt like myself really, at all since I’ve been here. I miss the real me. I like the real me. I’ve spent close to a quarter century (oh wow, yes that quarter century birthday is on the horizion...) with me and I’m nostalgic for the real me. I feel that piece of me returning little by little each day. Appearing slowly and quietly like a budding flower. I know it will take some time, but I’m excited for the day when I can feel like me again. In the meantime, I’ll keep checking on the flowers in the window.