April is the Cruelest Month

I’m always a mixture of emotions in April, mixing melancholy with anticipation. This year, the weather is fickle, my schedule is unsettled and I’m waiting for some big projects to bloom, hampered by bouts of delays. I go outside and finally see a handful of crocuses alongside their earlier siblings that are now blackened, frozen stems because they stuck their heads up a bit too soon.

April brings out impatience in me as well as conflicting desires. I want to work on the final details of the book, I want to create events and programs; I want to go out and play in the sunshine. Easter brings the joy of celebration but also serves as a marker for the Spring deaths of both of my parents.

April is the cruellest month, breeding

Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing

Memory and desire, stirring

Dull roots with spring rain.

I always forget the second phrase, going straight from April is the cruelest month to mixing memory and desire. Mixing memory and desire really hits home for me. I remember egg battles on Easter morning; I remember decades of making Easter bread. I think about the anticipation of graduations and new beginnings. I think about people I miss and opportunities I let go of. Then, desire kicks in.

This is the season of renewal and of hope. So, I’ll say some gentle goodbyes. I’ll smile a bit wistfully at some memories and then I’ll head out into the sunshine of possibilities. Time to stir some dull roots and dance in the Spring rain.

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