In case you hadn't heard, we didn't have a great winter.
It was a winter filled with tears and rain and sickness and death and not a whole lot of sunshine. It was a rough season for our family. Surely spring would be better. Surely there would be happier times to come. Surely the sun would shine again. Surely my heart would stop aching.
And here we are, well into spring. We made it past the funeral and got our relaxing vacation and now we have much to look forward to in the coming months. We are firmly in a new season - a good season.
Yet the change in me is slow to come. I am not thawing as quickly as expected.
I am still sitting like a lump on the couch during Anna's naps wasting away precious hours, more tired and lethargic when she awakes than before. I am still up in the night worrying about the same things. I am still feeling guilty for all that is left undone. I am still only dreaming and definitely not acting. I'm still longing. I'm still aching.
This has nothing to do with winter.
This has everything to do with me.
So, now to move on.
And, now to do better.
Because to move on is to do better.