Letting go of winter

Shhh...I think that spring really might be here, but I don't dare say it out loud. Because then a snowstorm would surely hit Gothenburg.

This past winter was so long that I can't believe it's finally over. I enjoyed the first couple of months of snow, but then it overstayed its welcome by 3 months. In fact, despite any previous posts I might have written about signs that spring is here, I've been subconsciously holding back and lowering my expectations. I didn't want to let myself believe. I wanted to just open my eyes one morning and see summer outside the window. Spring is too fickle, beautiful as she may be; her relationship with winter is tempestuous, and she often gives in to his whims, letting him lead while they're caught up in a stormy tango. Summer, on the other hand, is by definition the opposite of winter. Even though she might sometimes surprise us with rain, at least we know it's not going to snow.

Yesterday evening, J and I were out on our balcony. It was a mild evening. Several neighbours were outside, enjoying the warmth. Suddenly, there was a commotion in the woods nearby. Passers-by had just seen a moose and were now warning others that were out walking. It was surreal. A moose, in our neighbourhood?

But the most surreal thing for me, the spring denier, was that everyone else seemed to have accepted the fact that winter is gone. They were embracing spring. They were out walking in the evening. They were on their patios, drinking. Some of them had planted flowers. And I unexpectedly stopped wishing for summer to get here already and let go of my irrational fear that winter will come back.