March 20, 2009

It’s spring. I told my son this and he asked to go to the pool. Oh, the mind of a child. For me, spring is a bag of mixed emotions. I’ve always loved the metaphor of comparing spring and birth, the smell of the trees, flowers and the warm sun.

Here in Alabama, the misquitoes have been out for months. I don’t think they die, I think they just go to a corner and grow bigger during the winter. My kids are scared of misquitoes, like normal kids would be scared of bees. I can’t really figure it out. They won’t kill them; they just run from them. Spring is sad also because they things are being “born” now will die in the fall. One might say, enjoy it while they are here.  To which, I have so many primal urges to yell at, that I just don’t have the energy to write about it. Suffice to say, I hate that response. Spring has sprung (see earlier Blooming Post).

Our door on our house swings open sometimes without prompting. This doesn’t freak me out but gives me an opportunity to think of Norah. I always welcome her into the house when that happens. Our house is also prone to random noises late at night, to which I always respond by welcoming Norah again. If I were to have a haunted house, I would want it to be haunted by Norah.

I miss you dear girl, you would have been 16 months old on the 18th.


  1. ((hugs)) thinking of you and Norah.

  2. Wow. I am not sure how I got here, but am so glad I did. I am seeing a familiar here.

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