I am clinging to any sign of new life these days, anything that might help me hearken spring. Thursday it was the call of the robin in the tree next to my bathroom window when I woke up early. Yesterday it was this little pot of spring blooms starting to open on my kitchen counter, given to me by a sweet friend. I woke up to a snowstorm today, so I'll take any spring signs I can take. I had big plans of taking the girls outside for a walk today, but instead we watched Sesame Street and made forts, for what feels like the millionth weekend in a row. Puh-leeeeease winter. Forsake us of your presence.
Then I started picking up on little reminders other places. The baby sock I cleaned out of the toy bin, too small for Summer's growing, fat feet. The picture from a past trip to New York City that had fallen out of an album. An inspiring quote in my weekly planner, appropriate for what I've been wondering lately: is it wrong to be always making declarations, setting goals in a forward-moving continuum? To be always improving, always taking stock of where I am? Or should I stop and just be present, no goals, no aspirations, just being and absorbing?