Difficulty letting go.
This morning as I stepped out beneath cloud-filled darkness, and crisp morning air.
I was greeted with the cruel Aprils fools trickery, freshly carpeted snow.
The snow cone type, accumulating each step you take, as if the melted snowman is attempting one final comeback on your boot.
While a beautiful site, my steel horse can be heard in the stable complaining, it has had its fill of trickle charge. Now freedom is all it seeks.
My furry child is always happy to taste fresh fall, hardly understanding my disappointment.
So I breathe deep looking around, in its way it has magic for even in the outskirts of Chicago April usually means rain.
Which by the way is not my favorite, nor snow either, for I am a lover of fall. Not that rain doesn’t bring the thought of love, but that my friend is another story.
As with most things in life, Fall does not love me, for allergies peak this time of year, and often, illness visits.
The snow has set me off track in thought and expectation, perhaps that was the intention.
I do my best to appreciate the situation as we make our way back to the house, dislodging the snow to remain outside before we head back in.
I make a mental note to contact Punxsutawney Phil, to voice my dismay.
Seems even winter can be needy, having difficulty releasing its control.
We all have our fears.