fifteenth spring

This Morning’s Free Write 
photo and words by my older son

It is raining outside right now. The grass is turning brilliantly emerald green, the trees are starting to blossom, and there are some daffodils on the table that the kids have picked. I look out the back door and I see one of our sheep chasing the chickens around in the field. I see birds again. In the sky there is heavy gray fog that makes me think of a massive comforter being thrown down on the world.

I feel warm and cozy inside my house, sitting on the couch under a blanket while spilling my guts for a story like this one. I look behind myself, out the window, and see a tree getting covered in moss. I feel a massive bubble of joy in my body, a turbulence, a tornado, a twisting, laughing voice saying it is spring. I want to leap and shout for joy. SPRING IS HERE!!

Summer awaits me. A whole life is calling my name. I feel the urge to move, escape, run free of this house. See the world. See the world. I want to see the world. I want to roam until the dust, water, and air of the four corners of the world are in my skin, my eyes, and my hair.


This same time, years previous: oatmeal raisin cookies, answers, the quotidian (4.9.12), asparagus with lemon and butter, and the kind of day.  


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