Never quite beyond what we think we’re beyond here, not in Montana, not anymore. We huddle and brace and hold tight through the frozen months, we rejoice at the first robin we spy, the first bluebird that carries hope on those shining wings. Still, nagging and rooted behind all this, deeper in the soil of us, is that realization that the cold can always return, that it so nearly always does. The instant we think ourselves out of the woods, the cold returns, the snow falls once more, and all that green we hoped for is once again white, the Spring we wait for like ritual and promise once again halted.
Will I be ready? Am I ever? No. We are creatures built to endure, this is true, but after so much of that surviving, sometimes we crave a sliver of thriving. We want to feel things ease up, feel like each day isn’t work, isn’t an exercise in patience or internal fortitude. Sometimes, we deserve a break.
The snow will return, with it the cold that we swore we finally beat back into hibernation. I know this, for it does each year, it has all my life. Will I be ready? No, but I will adjust my mast, I will sail into the storm, and I will hold tight to the rails until sunlight once again melts it all.
It’s all we can do. It’s all we can ever do.
If the snow returns,
and returns I know it will,
will I be ready?
Haiku on Life by Tyler Knott Gregson
Song of the Day
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