thinking

Spring is coming
And even though it snowed this morning
Spring is in the air
And the back of my mind.

The attic is full of dust and cobwebs and she wanders up the stairs. The sun filters in through the single dusty window, lighting up the sparkly dust in the air. Its a place long forgotten, a place of happy comfort. There's an old braided rug on the wooden floor, and a toy dinosaur lying on his side, long killed by some meteor or GI Joe. A box of doll clothes in the corner. She sinks onto the rug and turns her attention to a bookshelf. Rilla and Ken look wistfully from the cover of a book, and Hamlet beholds his father's ghost. The playmates she once knew wander through the dust of that attic, leaving footprints despite being ghosts.

What's that? Footfalls on the stairs? Two sets of eyes peer between the railing and a hand comes up, tossing a tiny seashell across the floor towards her. That is her memento of them, and as abruptly as they came, they leave. Another footfall sounds, and she realizes she's not alone. Yet another seashell. This time it is accompanied by a sprig of mountain laurel. Long dried, its flowers are dull and brown. He waves, she waves back, and watches as slowly, the brown flowers fade to tiny white goblets, and the leaves uncurl to their glossy green. Happy spring is here. In full bloom, right in the attic. Ghostly sparrows chirp and cross her trail, she sees a sight of camoflage pants, and ragged holes, and mint chocolate chip ice cream. The dusty attic smell can stay because it so closely resembles the mulch of spring, the squish of mud, the caked and dirty boots. The things and sights and smells so precious to her heart. Slowly the vision fades. The mulch begins to rot and the sights and sounds once precious are torn away by the passage of time.

Time brings adventure, and exploration of new lands, and freedom. She revels in the welcome breeze of a new place, and new sights and sounds. The breeze and warm heavy rain are almost enough to wash the pain from her heart at what she left behind. Faces dance before her in the misty afternoon sunlight filtering into the attic. Just as quickly, they too fade away.

Spring comes again, with a guitar and a dress and little clear marble. Sun shines brightly in the puddle at her feet, nearly blinding her. Happy times are once more before her, only to be taken away once more. Why does spring bring such emotion for her?

Again she departs for an adventure, explores new lands and freedoms. This time she notices the changes it brings to her. To who she really is. To her beliefs. The changes wrought in her bring contentment, yet intense pain to her heart.

There is a point between fall and winter where life seems to be utterly meaningless and useless. This is the opposite of spring, and she did her best to remain there. She didn't want to be reminded of the happy times that came before her departure. She didn't want to be reminded that life is not so simple as it once was.

She could stay in the land of the dead and hide from life for as long as she wanted. But life was determined to find her, in one form or another. She would not take the joys she'd once known, but there were others that would hunt her down. The sun began to fade, as she'd spent the entire day in that attic. The dust was no longer illuminated, and the walls faded to a metallic black. The creaky floorboards caught her attention, because they sounded suddenly different. The wind outside became a soft, clean whirring sound. Another footfall, this time she runs to the banister to look down. Yet another seashell... this one is made of glass. It has a soft brown color, which she thinks is so fitting. Happiness and light forces its way in, with sunshine and dragons and pretty ladies and flowers and doublets. She looks around the room. Luggage. A plane ticket. Change is coming again. The wind outside grows louder and a girl's voice calls out in another language. Where are you? And the window shatters in the wind, blowing the dust around her until the images of her past vanish.

The wind gets colder and she begins to shiver. A dim light begins to glow around her, and she feels the warmth radiating through her... not of happiness but the promise of healing. More voices, but she can't see them. She's confused and no longer knows which way to go to find more memories. She wonders if she should begin to clean the attic, but decides she likes it the way it is. Things long gone can be relived here. But things that aren't long gone cannot visit while she's here. She wishes there was a way to relive her memories and still live her life.

She sighs... spring is coming again. Is that good or bad?