The Space Between

They say the first to go is the memory. Or is it smell? Perhaps it is eyesight. Well, whatever it is, I'm sure the first to go are the "days." All the days you wish to fill with your heart's desire. Days, they come and go so quickly, and before you know it, three years will pass in a blink of an eye. As times passes quickly, do you recall the days? The smell? The sights? The seasons?

Unbelievable how years have gone by since we last met. It's time to reintroduce myself, I suppose, since I've changed a bit. I'm sure you have, too. Perhaps three years ago, you had no interest in what I have to say, this crazy little blog thing, or enough time in your life to surf the web mindlessly enough to stumble upon me. Change is good.

Not long after my last post, I took a hiatus from life. That's how I will define it and I'm sure you will speculate what I mean by that. It doesn't matter, really. It was a break. In many ways, in all forms, and in every capacity. As with any break, there is healing and regrowth. Sometimes, a break can weaken a structure. But to create a break requires strength. 

So, I fast forward from then to now, because now, I need to pick up where I left off. Like a time warp or celestial worm hole, the space in-between, the gray matter or black space, if left to decipher, will only send one into a Hawkings-like ramble. Now, is all that we have.

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Now, is the middle of March and the beginning of Spring. It is this time each year that I am reminded of the intense energy of the Earth. Winter, with its bitter cold and fury has imbedded itself in the ground, frozen time in the still waters, and forced the creatures of the earth from its path. She breaths pure ice into our lungs and frosts our teeth as we cringe from her whipping winds that freeze the flowing water in our veins. She surrounds us with her cool beauty of frozen waterfalls and iced over walkways. She cares not that our soft warm bodies walk among her hollowed branched forests and along the gusting paths of drift and pile. We forge through what cities we have created, yet she is merciless with navigating herself into our world. She commands us through pelting our backs with her sleet and ice; punishing us for not respecting her or reminding us of her strength, one is not sure but only wishes for the release of her asphyxiating grip.


Promises are made by Spring of life to come, but Winter overcasts those glimpses of hope. Unavoidably and eventually, there must be change. Winter must brake loose her grip and the regrowth of Spring will be upon us. What Winter has not destroyed in her path, what victims she has not made her own, will awake in the sunshine. All of Spring's treasures lay just beneath the surface or on the tailwinds of Winter. Winter, our very own black hole or undefined gray matter or black space: necessary, cruel, and misunderstood. She removes the positive life energy from the elements that make life thrive. But yet, they were there all along, somewhere in-between the fallen leaves of Autumn and the sprouts of flowers bursting through the snow. Spring emerges, not with a gentleman's touch, but rather, with the same drive for life, from deep within us that forces us to gasp for breath, that drives our us to hunt when we hunger, and the urgency to pursue our love, passions, and desires. It is with that strength, that Spring breaks the long shadows of Winter so a new life may begin again.