To be completely honest, I've been opposing Spring ever since it dared to show its green head at the end of February. It's not that I'm against the idea of new life, or blooming flowers, or warm weather. It's just that for me, spring has always meant the end of something. The end of school, to be specific.
Yes, you have me. I'm the kid who just about cries on the last day of school, who dreads May beginning in September, and who feels like an era has come and gone with the closing of each school year.
And folks, I'm not ready for my freshman year to be over. It's been really wonderful; perhaps one of the best years of my life. I've been exposed to so many things, I've met so many people, and I've learned so much about myself that I'm loathe to let this beautiful time end.
I realize that I'm still young, and that I still have most of college in front of me, but I have a gut feeling that things won't be the same next year, and that there will be a different quality in the air. You can never, ever go back to the way things were, I suppose.
Anyway, my original point was not to slather on a layer of melancholy, but to inform you that I've warmed up to (if you'll excuse the pun) spring. When it's 60 degrees and you're outside shooting baskets with your dad and the dog is muddy running this way and that way, orange ball rolling against red tongue, you know that spring cannot be all bad.
Here's a bit of an E.E. Cummings poem to make up for it all:
in Just-
spring when the world is mud-
luscious the little lame baloonman
whistles far and wee
and eddyandbill come
running from marbles and
piracies and it's
spring
when the world is puddle-wonderful
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