“There ain’t no better time of year.”
That’s what I wrote to my college roommate who has been going through his mother’s death, a divorce, a job loss, long-term unemployment and then, whoosh, finally a new job.
We’ve been there for each other over the years. He for me during my insane sicknesses and now me for him. I tell ya, it’s great to give back.
We were assigned other roommates for our first couple years at Alma College, but he was the first roommate I chose. So there’s something long-term and deep about our relationship. I was reminded of that when we visited him a few weeks back and saw a picture he kept on his bureau. I haven’t decided yet whether I’m going to share it here; we were wearing underwear on our heads.
Hey give me a break; it was Halloween.
Visiting his family and seeing him bouncing back from all the struggles did my heart good. He agreed with me about spring — this spring in particular — holding a lot of promise and potential.
As we get older, the winters seem to stretch on longer, colder and darker. Sure, that could very well be climate change, but it could also be acclimate change as well. We are less willing or able to force our bodies into hibernation. I can understand now why old folks retire to Florida.
The onset of green and warmth and the secret tulips that I planted last fall for my wife are all the sweeter after the harshness of winter. This year we set all-time record low temperatures. Last year, at least here in Michigan, we set all-time record snow depths.
So the blooming and budding feels like a deep, long exhale for both myself and my college buddy after his turmoil. We can take life and ourselves less seriously now. These days of sunshine and mild weather remind us of our youth, with all the promise that the future held.
Ah, youth.
Okay, okay, on that note, here’s the photo.
I will keep his name out of this, since he’s recently been named a Chief Operating Officer at his new job. They almost got it right. COO is one acronym shy of what he really is, COOL.
I don’t know why we didn’t think to re-stage that photo nowadays. Perhaps on our next meeting?
I’d say to burn those pants, but I suspect they would just melt. Planting is a great act of faith, and spring is its fulfillment.
Beth, those pants fell victim to the fiery ravages of time. By the 90s, they had long since evaporated, only recalled in grainy photos and somewhat perturbed memories.