Now I Remember

March and I have developed a funny relationship over the years. It is my birth month, and the month I always think of as the beginning of spring. I have spent most of my life liking March. But after nearly 27 years (!) I have come to accept that a) birthdays are overrated and b) there is actually not much springy about March, at all.

March is the month during which the daylight seems suddenly longer but the weather doesn't match, and I'm not quite ready to be done with the cozy indoor evenings of wintertime. I do prefer warmth and sun and green, but the brown, muddy chill of March makes it terribly difficult to even think of what summer is like. Or how to get There from Here. And last of all, I have spent two Marches in early pregnancy, with last spring's pregnancy ending in miscarriage. So this year, while quite over the morning sickness and happily counting the weeks (11, give or take) until I deliver this active little baby, I have found myself feeling almost ill simply by association.

But TODAY, at last, I caught the glimpse of summer that I needed to help me work through my issues with March. Amy and I spent the late afternoon playing in the sandbox for the first time since fall. Simply being outside at 5:30, in daylight, and at a comfortable temperature was enough to bring back memories of barbecues and margaritas and gardening, and assured me that yes, the grass will be green again.

Now, I remember.