Sprung from the ashes...

The windows have been thrown open, even though the air outside is still a bit chilly. The sun is casting bright light through the lace curtains onto a sparklingly, dazzling, white Formica counter top strewn with the various tools of the industrious housewife: spray cleaner, gloves, scrubbies, wipes, old rags, new ones with tags, and brackets and screws dislocated forever from some unidentified shelving unit. The air smells like lemon.

A box of condiments sits beneath the sink. That mustard on sale 4 months ago? Still with us today. Those gourmet pickled peppers in that cute little jar? Much more fun to look at then to eat. A box of cornstarch. Who keeps buying cornstarch? We never use it, and if we do, only a pinch is needed.

A single puff of dust, swept up, up into the air amid the frenzy slowly makes its way back to the tiled floor. A breezy gust sends it soaring again, winding upward in spirals. Music sounds faintly from the basement, the tinny sound coaxing microscopic particles to awaken; be swept up and away. Spring is birth and life for living! Where I live, spring is when the inanimate come to life: The stereo sings, the chairs sidestep tables, as brooms reach for the inevitable sprinkling of crumbs, crumbs, crumbs.

Today the first daffodil bloomed beneath my window.

And even though stress is still crushing us all: the papers are still due...the bills sit impatiently next to a quickly cooling cup of coffee...someone trips on a dustpan...
...this season brings forth new attitudes and hope. It feels, amid all of the chaos, like a blessed second chance.