You are currently browsing the monthly archive for March, 2008.
I have not been feeling well lately, and that is why I’ve been absent. Nothing dire, but my body has been begging me to catch up on some rest, and for once, I’m listening to it. Unfortunately, I’m still not doing very well, and I don’t know when I will be able to jump back into things–hopefully within another week or two–but I wanted to let everyone know that I haven’t vanished forever. Thank you for all your well wishes and missing-you comments; I miss all of you too. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Until then, much love to everyone,
Amy
It feels like Spring is truly here–a little early perhaps, but certainly welcome. The edge of Winter still clings to the Pacific Northwest, alternating sunny warmth with dismal gray skies and freezing rain. The trees are not budding just yet, but the miniature rose at my bedside has unfolded four new blooms and I can almost feel the world waiting to burst into green. Spring is my favorite season, despite the fact that I am deadly allergic to the lilacs that grow so profusely here. This goes back to my childhood, when my dad would pack the entire family into the car some Saturday in mid-April and we would drive all over the Central Texas hillcountry to see the wildflowers. It is absolutely magical–huge fields everywhere you look that are drenched in vibrant color, hundreds of thousands of bluebonnets, primroses, winecups, Indian paintbrush, verbena, Queen Anne’s lace, poppies…the list goes on almost
infinitely. This is perhaps the thing I miss most about Texas, and one of my favorite memories of my dad, so that even now, living in a place where Spring is absolute torture for my body and Autumn is the month I look forward to most, Spring still holds as my first love. This is also a paradoxical time of year for me emotionally. April will bring my birthday, but it will also bring the third anniversary of my diagnosis of PCOS/prediabetes–which I dread so greatly that there are no words for that burden, because in the last three years I have only gotten sicker, and I do not know how I can live with this soul-stealing disease 
another year. But for now, I am not weighed down by the inevitability of that anniversary. I am full of excitement and hope–there are so many possibilities opening up before me right now. They are still months away and nothing is certain, but even if they do not turn out, I am so grateful to have something to look forward to. Hope is a blessing I cannot drink in enough, even at the brink of a golden season.
