Stargazing

Here we are again.

It's not the ideal stargazing spot, to be honest. Streetlights dot the side of the parking lot and lead into a nearby highway. Even if there were no lights, it's a busy enough highway that even at this time of night, there are enough cars to brighten the road and distract us from the stars. But where can you go in a city when it's below freezing in April? So, we sit in the car, staring up at the sky with the faintest hope we might see just one falling meteor.

I'm not really sure I care. I look over at you, fiddling with your phone, and you catch me and smile.

I could spend my life like this. I don't care what we're doing. Even visiting a parking lot at 2 AM feels like an adventure. We move to another location with hope that we will be able to see some falling meteors there, but have no success. It's just as well-lit there, meaning that even if there were falling meteors, we likely would miss them. We decide to head back home, our adventure short-lived by the lack of unlit places.

To some, this might be a failure. We didn't see any meteors. I didn't think of it that way, though.

On our way back, I start to drift to sleep, lulled by the motion of the car. I nod awake long enough to see you're giving me that look--the one that you always give me when I randomly fall asleep (this happens more often than I'd like to let on).

I'd like nothing more than to freeze time and keep this moment forever.

Awakening

It's 8 PM. The light has just started to slip down the horizon, painting the sky in dark purple and blue. The weather is still mild enough that you can sit outside without a jacket on. The birds are singing happily in the trees, even though the sun is setting.The air smells fresh and verdant. And faintly of dog dung.

This long, heavy winter has finally succumbed to spring.

 Every winter I fall into a funk that's pretty difficult to bounce back from, and it doesn't seem to get any better until late March at the very earliest. This year, I almost made a very big life change during the winter, and came out of it at the very last minute in the final days of March. It was that moment that I awakened and spring truly seemed to be in fruition.

If there's anything I learned from it, it's not to make any decisions when stuck in a funk, or in winter at all. It gave me a different perspective, but the moment I emerged from the funk, I changed my mind.

When I made my final decision, it was as though the final clouds had dissipated and the flowers had begun to bloom.

With the lengthening of the days and the warmer sun comes longer hours of consciousness and awareness. Perhaps now that we're all becoming aware again, the days will seem more inspiring and revealing for us all.