spring

today i am home sick, and i'm homesick. for warmth. green. the constant sound of birds. tan feet and flip-flops and the absence of layers. maybe it's because i was looking at old photos. maybe it's because it feels like winter lasts forever. or maybe it's because we left uganda before we were ready. i've had friends tell me that they reach a point where a season of life has come to a close and there is a knowing that that season of life is clearly over. it's a sense of closure that happens in ones bones. that's not the way our leaving was. we knew in our minds it was time to go. that it was the right thing to do, and that our hearts would get there but our bones hold a different truth. 

last year when i returned to uganda with my boys, i distinctly remember my bones settling when we landed. a long exhale and a release that i felt in my bones. like i was home. i remember feeling like i could just send for the rest of the family and so easily resume life there, the things didn't matter, my bones were back where they belonged. 

one of the 4 books i'm reading right now is michelle obama's latest book, the light we carry. she talks about her dad and the important lesson he taught her about being satisfied with what he had and where he was in life, not always comparing himself with others and what he didn't have. she talks about how this is a key to happiness, choosing to be satisfied and not always wanting something else. it's true and important. 

today the daffodils beside the steps have bloomed. the bluebells too and the grass is greener. there are buds on some of the trees and even though it's 40 degrees outside, spring is coming. i can't feel it yet, but i can see its beginnings. 

will my eyes fall on the forest of dry maples stretching bare to the sky? or the carpet of brightening green? the piles of brown fallen leaves? or the purple flower pushing through? 

it is a choice.

i will look for the signs and mark them, even if they are few. there is hope, it's moving toward the light.