It was the longest, darkest, and loneliest winter yet.
It was spent indoors, and outdoors, in bars and in woods, in breakfast places and in beds. I was sick for 5 weeks of it, five hellish, feverish weeks that made me hate everything to do with my bed. AK departed in December, I worked over Christmas break, and life continued but it was the sort of existence that Montana winters force one to live in- you go from indoors to in cars to being with yourself too much.
I declare Winter over. It is Spring, even if Montana doesn’t think so. I’m done with many parts of Winter- pining, wanting, wishing. It’s time to fulfill, to do and make.
I’m turning 22 on Wednesday, and partially due to recent events I also declare my birthday the start of a tabula rasa of sorts- Spring wipes away Winter’s decay and death, and with it the bad things. I like being born in Spring, when hope and love and blooms surface and make themselves known to everybody. I am not meant for Winter.