Spring is here. Last week I saw my first robins. On Wednesday,
a volunteer from the American Cancer Society delivered bunches of daffodils for their annual fundraiser – Daffodil Days. On Friday, the letters in the google header were shaped like pieces of fruit with a hungry caterpillar eating his way through. This morning, as I walked through our yard, I saw that the forsythia and weigela now bear tiny buds. The air has a new smell today, a fragrant fresh scent enjoyed but once a year. All sure signs that spring is here.
It is fitting that our youngest son chose March 21st for his westward move. A time of change, of rebirth. Late this afternoon he leaves for California, flying 2,849 miles across the country to seek his fortune in his chosen field. Our oldest son and his spouse live there, loved ones to welcome and watch over him for a spell, to acclimate him to his new city. To provide a roof and bed until he finds his own place. I’m glad they’ll be together.
We give them roots to grow, and wings to fly. But it is still a bittersweet time for us. He’s so happy about the move. It’s what he wants, what he needs. But must the country be so very wide?
His move has spurred a wave of spring de-cluttering in our house. He’s lived away since college but, like many, left rooms filled with remnants of his youth. We’ve been cleaning, sorting, making way for other remnants he’s accumulated and has now hauled home from his nearby apartment. Things he wants shipped once he’s established, or stored until…whenever. Surprisingly, it’s all given me a new energy. Energy to clean.
Energy to write. I find myself once more waking in the middle of the night with thoughts of manuscripts yet unfinished, of characters who cry out to be heard. I stumble to my computer and my fingers fly. Over the winter, writing has been a struggle. Manuscripts suffered. But strangely enough, with our son’s imminent move in this brilliant budding spring, I feel alive. Reborn. Maybe his driving ambition has spilled over to his mother. One can only hope.
Godspeed, my dear son.
Stringing Beads 
Yes, spring is here–for a day or two at a time.
Loved your post and know exactly how you feel about the son moving so far away. When my Alaska son first left home, he told me save his room, he’d be back.
We did. He came home but returned to make that state his home. While home he cleared out his stuff, asked us to save a few things for later, and he’s returned often since then, but only for days at a time.
I understand about distance and the need to let our children fly. 🙂
Funny, how much we are alike, though we don’t talk often. I’d decided my weekly post would have something to do with spring also.
Mary Jo
After this last winter, spring seems especially welcome this year, doesn’t it, MJ? I look forward to Casey’s post tomorrow, and her take on the topic! 🙂
Deb,
A bittersweet event to be sure. Where do the years go? I so clearly remember him as a small toddler – all of our children….but we do raise them to forge ahead and make their own life. I am excited for him. Many adventures await.
A wonderful post. Thanks for sharing your thoughts dear sister.
P.