I don't know what it is about April. The world explodes around me and I am left balancing on the edge of a precipice longing for something else, somewhere else. April has typically been a month of change full of drama swirling around me in darkness. Two years ago, in April, my sister died. The sadness still clings to me and droops eyelids across a lilac branch dripped in butterflies clipped wings.
The month is almost at an end and the world is exploding in greenery and life as I watch from a distance as my friends are pulled through transitions and waning relationships abruptly severed. Colleagues are stressed and pulled to the ends of the candle wick drained and holding on for a brief reprieve in summer's holiday booked. The coffee bean takes on new significance of survival. And here I am in the centre of the maelstrom saddened by the going ons and misplaced in my own renewed grief as I comfort my son who relives the past in his own sensitivities and worries about everyone leaving him to enter the place we know not of.
But, this morning after a night of tossing and turning and insomnia's dance and drain left us three droopy eyed and heading off to our differing days, I noticed the green. The green explosion. Grass once brown and dustbowled in golden dryness turned to a bright green. Barren branches dripping over the road turned to the light light green bud ready to burst into a cacophony of moist heavy sounds. The smell of spring, the dance of spring, the lightness in my head. The lovely duke by my side, sleepy cuteness. The vibrant ray of light that is his yawning eyes. I am ready for May.