Posted on | April 15, 2014 | 3 Comments
Yesterday I left work to that uniquely Spring smell… the rustic, earthy, pulling of rain down from the sky. You know the smell, right? That seasonal thickness in the air so heavy that you feel like you are just swimming in the raw dirt of the earth. It’s one of my favorite smells even though it usually means heavy rains, because it is one of the few times I feel totally at peace… totally one with the planet beneath my feet.
I don’t know why Spring has always felt that way for me.
Maybe it’s just always been a time of endings and new beginnings in my life… graduations, divorces, moves to new and exciting places. Or maybe it’s just because my mind easily falls into slumber during the winter months and Spring gently rocks me awake with the promise of new life and greener pastures. Things change in the Spring… things grow and bloom and sprout and climb. New life awakens, the old is cast aside, and things just… change.
For whatever reason, Spring has always been my favorite season.
This morning, I wrangled my child through our morning routine, basking in the heavy newness of life around me. The clouds were thick with Spring rain and it tapped warmly against our backs as we ran down the front walkway to the car. We chatted back and forth along the way, he sang, I drove… just the usual banter of mother and child. Then we pulled in to the school, wipers squeaking a confused morse code against my windshield, and my son grew a little quiet.
I pulled to a stop at his classroom and switched off the ignition, turning to face him. I wiped the remains of his breakfast off his chin and shirt and he smiled at me as he unbuckled from his “big boy” booster seat. As I started to unbuckle my own seat belt to get out and walk him in, he stopped me.
“It’s raining, mom, and you don’t need to get wet,” he grabbed his lunch box and his water bottle and flashed me the smile that has grown so big over four quick years, “and I’m a big kid now. You don’t have to walk me into school.”
He flew from the car, walking tall and proud up the ramp to his classroom door and I struggled to keep a smile plastered on my face. The heavy Spring rain fell across his forehead and he brushed it away with quick hands. He has grown so tall that even the administrator walking by commented to me that he was growing up so fast. So fast. At the door, he turned and waved and I waved back, waiting to see his face appear through the classroom window before I pulled away, wiping tears or rain from my cheeks and eyes.
Spring is about growing, changing, blossoming into the beauty we’re meant to be. The beauty he is meant to be. I couldn’t shake that image of him, tall and brave, walking that walkway alone with the steps of a “big boy” even at four.
Only at four.
He is growing, changing, blossoming into the child he is meant to be, the person he is meant to be, and one day too soon… the man he is meant to be.
For whatever reason, Spring has never been my favorite season.