Sunday, March 8, 2015
Spring Comes on Forever
Once I was a little girl.
I remember so many things; little, sweet, special things, things that may have gone unnoticed at the time but somehow have stuck with me this long, and will probably stick with me forever. I remember walking through the path in the woods, just as I do now, only seeing it in a different light, the light of childhood dreams. I have fond memories of hay wagons, little purple violets that grow wild on the banks of the creek, daises that grow by the edge of the oat field, straw hats, bushel baskets of sweet peas, clothes that I got really dirty while playing outside, songs I used to sing. :-) I can remember it all. And it was beautiful.
Memories seem especially sweet in the springtime. I don't know what exactly it is about springtime that makes me feel everything so much stronger than any other time of the year. I feel alive, hopeful, nostalgic, bittersweet and wonderful. I remember springtime when I was a little girl, and all down through the years as I've gotten older. I remember all the books I've read, the things I did, the things I wanted, the way I felt. Somehow it all comes back to me.
Once it was springtime.
Rewind four years, and you'll find me at twelve years old. It's springtime, and I'm sitting on the couch in the living room watching the story of a young navy officer and his adventures play out before my eyes, all the while slowly and hopelessly falling in love with said officer's endearing best friend. Four years later, the flame still burns as bright. I remember those days as if they were only last week, instead of somewhere in the distant past where I may never again grasp and hold on to them; but those days will never be far beyond my reach.
Spring comes again, and the little girl has opened a new chapter of her life; she's started writing a blog. She flits around happy as a clam, reveling in her exciting young life, uncovering interesting things each day, writing silly little stories, singing Irish songs to her hearts' content, and picking violets out in the woods. This spring, she makes a promise to herself, and scrawls it in the back of one of her notebooks: I will find Archie, someday, somewhere out there. P.S. If I don't, I shall die an old maid. ~E.
Springtime again, and the little girl is growing up. She is sitting on her sister's bed, involving herself utterly in the story of five courageous women who settle on the Nebraska frontier to forge new lives for themselves and each other. She writes an email and suddenly, in the space of what seems like an instant, she discovers a kindred soul and the best friend she could ever imagine. She is no longer the same little girl; she can't be.
And now it's springtime again. And I'm here, much the same as I was, and yet so remarkably different. I'm not a little girl anymore, that much is plain. I've changed, there's no doubt about it. There are new irons in the fire. But the same old flame still burns within me, telling me that I haven't changed much; not really. And not in so many of the ways that really matter.
The flowers grow in the woods, the creek runs on across the rocks, altering its path a little with every thunderstorm but always staying to the same course. I go out to my favorite place to pick my violets, that place where I encounter God, where I made my promises, where I love it best of anywhere in the world. I can hear the creek from there. I want to be like that creek; changing when I have to for the things I love and value most, making allowances for new ideas and experiences, but always, always I want to stay true to the same course. Because I am going somewhere, I am. I'm on my way.
My mind is near to overflowing with memories; beautiful ones. Past thoughts and hopes, dreams I had once upon a bright sunny day somewhere in my young life. I have seen beautiful things, wonderful things that can never be taken away from me. I will remember them and keep them tucked away in my heart until forever ends, which is never. I have loved, and I have felt, I have laughed, I have even cried, I have learned, and I have seen. I have lived, and I intend, Lord willing, to live more. Because there is always more beauty, if you know where to look for it. There will always be laughter and joy, and there are still words in me. Words that pour out like water over the smooth rocks. And of course there is love, which, I hear, never runs out.
I miss being a little girl, but I'm adjusting. Thank goodness I don't have to do it all at once. Every time spring comes, I feel I'm back there again; all the years I've passed through somehow become like one in my memory, though each is special in its unique way. I'm a sentimental person, in case you haven't noticed. ;-) It's hard to say goodbye to things I love-- but I don't really have to. As long as I remember them in my heart, they aren't really gone. I'll have these beautiful memories with me forever.
And look, it's springtime. :-)