wild+free

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Longing.

The brutal ways of spring: We had a little taste, of the sun warming our faces, of hearing the sound of snow thawing and drippetydropping from the roof, of smelling rotten cat poo emerging from under the snow, of remembering and regretting that I didn't plant tulip bulbs last autumn either, of feeling in our hearts that life was about to return to our spot on the planet. And then, as it always does, it turned on us. The white fluff which name shall not be spoken, returned - and with a vengeance - and it could just as well be the beginning of December for all we know. No signs of spring whatsoever.
The only way to survive this, is by trusting our experience, the knowledge that one day, and maybe in not too long, spring will be here, for real, and we will again have freckles on our noses and feel our beings melted by and filled up with sunlight.
I know someone else who is looking forward to coming out again, too:
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