Spring

It may be spring. Everything is hazel, washed-out brown tinged with green. I guess hazel is spring's color. The color of my eyes anyway.

It rained today. It flooded the tennis courts so I couln't play. It wasn't a warm rain, but cold, rain bordering on freezing, rain that every once in a while spat bits of sleet that slid gracelessly down my windshield. But it was rain, rain that meant that maybe this schoolyear will end soon.

It has been so much better than the last.

Still, everywhere I look I feel punched with pain. It is in everything.

It is beautiful, in a way. Beautiful almost like the antithesis of spring. Necessary, for all the times I am left with my lungs empty from it.

Yes, that chapter of Ecclesiastes (or is it Ephesians?) is true. Chapter three maybe. To everything there is a time, and a season to everything under heaven.

Something like that.