However, one small strip of snow still clings stubbornly to the ground outside of my window. This sliver of ground doesn't get a long amount of direct sunshine, which is contributing to the snow's continuing reign. Each day I think, today will be the day, but each night, while it appears slightly worn down, it remains there. I know it's only a matter of time until a series of warm days completely obliterates it, leaving an unobliterated view of the new grass slowly growing in.
In the midst of the emotional havoc my body is wreaking on me right now, I've found myself feeling slightly better each day that brings more sunshine and the promise of a bright spring. In a way I've telling myself that with the spring will come a new start and a lightening of the burden I've become all too used to carrying this winter. The funny part of this metaphor is that in a way, it's actually true. Bipolar people go through what they call "normal seasonal cycles", meaning your body has "seasons". I've been living this winter one day, one hour, one minute at a time at a time (I just saw an intersting post on this very subject) and have been clinging to the slightest promise of spring.
Each day as the sun relentlessly chips away at that small patch of snow, I feel a little better, a little more in control. Time marches on, and I know it's only a matter of time until this season is over and I can look forward to another. Soon, I will look out and that snow will only be memory, not one I can appreciate having it so recently gone, but perhaps someday soon, during one of the hot summer days in a season to come, I will think of the snow and smile.
I took my love, I took it down,
Climbed a mountain and I turned around.
I saw my reflection in the snow covered hill,
Still the landslide brought me down.
Oh, mirror in the sky,
What is love?
Can the child within my heart rise above?
Can I sail thru the changing ocean tides?
Can I handle the seasons of my life?