If I lean my chair back from my desk and look across the office through the (hopefully) open door of my colleague, I can, for a moment, see spring. I can see the bright blue skies, the birds fluttering around, and the shade of green that appears blindingly bright after an extremely long winter.
The warmth of spring earth is finally upon us, and I couldn’t be happier. It is a time for frolicking, walking to the town square for lunch, and being leisurely as you stroll from place to place with a new zest for life—much different from the biting cold that we have experienced for so long—the kind where you have to hold your breath and huddle so far into your coat that you can hardly see where your next step will land.
I have to say, I’ve missed my heels. And my dresses. And my sandals. And short sleeved shirts. And rushing out of the house in the morning without having to bundle up in the scarf and coat. It’s lovely.
And from here, the one thing I can’t see is the strength of the wind. So as I sit here, longing for the outside world, I suddenly remembered one thing—the wind. And the contacts I got for the first time yesterday. And how the wind affects the contacts in your eyes. And the little gritty pieces of dirt winter left behind, and how they make wind tunnels and burrow into your face and eyes.
Oh yes. The wind is lovely. I just pretend that I was going for the windblown-messed watery eyes look—because it’s so in right now. And when I am in the parking lot with my hands full and my black and white polka dot dress gets caught by a 50 mph gust of wind and flies up on me, I yell to the passers-by that I’ve just gotten a part in the local production as the one and only Marilyn Monroe—I wore these underwear because I wanted you to see them. Really. I did.
Alas. At least contacts mean sunglasses, and this girl is looking ever more forward to spending some time in the sun (without the wind, of course).