Not one to follow the movements of groundhogs, nevertheless, I am ready for spring. I feel it in my bones, dream of it in the deep hours of the evening, daydream of rolling down the window (or, no, wait, pressing the button) of my car and letting my hair fly all around my face, bike riding with my son, drinking a latte with a sweater and a book on a bench, outside, somewhere.
Winter has been hard this year, whether you live down south or up north or even out west - the conditions have been tempestuous at best and downright wrathful at their worst.
I miss spring because I miss the feeling of the springy ground beneath my feet, the feel of the air when it's not so blustery and cold it hurts; no more slipping and falling on the ice, no more of my dog's feet getting cut up and bleeding while he runs around, no more of the trash can buried in feet of snow and no more of abominable driving conditions with the oil prices high as they can possibly be.
I am ready for spring so I can buy a tandem bicycle and put my children on the back and get a workout without a gym or a DVD. We can take miles worth of walks with the dog and let the sun give us what multivitamins never can. We can smile at people we don't know and forget we have jobs on the weekends.
I'm ready for spring, because I need that sense of renewal, rebirth. I'm ready to plant seedlings and eat outside, dig around in soil and watch a worm aerate the flower bed.
I'm ready to clean out the house, clean the closets, the oven and the garages, to throw away old boots and gloves and mud and ic- encrusted hats and mittens. I'm ready to begin walking again without hunching against the wind, to sautee broccoli and garlic and not feel like I need to eat an entire loaf of bread every day just to stay warm.
Aimee Boyle is a regular contributor to EmpowHER. She lives on the CT shoreline with her family.