A few months ago I dreamt that I was fleeing from danger and betrayal. It was winter. In flight, I jumped on a sled that sped down a steep, snow covered hill. I saw my face as the snow spray hit it and filled my open mouth. I don't remember watching my face while dreaming before. I saw it transform from animal fear to exhilaration as the ride continued. As the hill leveled out, a magical thing happened; strangely beautiful flowers appeared from the snow, growing as I watched. The cold, stark whiteness became enchanted. The plants themselves sparkled as they writhed into life.
It was beautiful. And reassuring.
Today is March 10. In upstate New York, that means it's still winter, and will be for weeks to come. Yesterday I noticed that the tree beside the driveway is in flower. The bare branches are covered with small yellow blossoms.
The signs are appearing.
I'll be leaving soon.