AWAITING SPRING

My father died last year, and was buried on the first day of Spring. I had gone to stay with him after he had a short respiratory illness, but although he had some good days, even a few good weeks, he never fully recovered. For the three Springs prior to my father's passing, I lived with my husband on an island in the Caribbean where he had accepted a project. But...there is no Spring in eternal Summer, and my tears blinded me to last year's new birth. I have spent these last winter-like weeks eagerly anticipating Spring...not just any kind of Spring, but Spring in the mountains.

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