Spring Time

The sun is shining. I'm getting about 50 more freckles than I had this morning when I woke up. People on the sunny side of the block are out on their balconies and terraces. A woman is playing with a cat-sized dog on their little part of the community lawn. On the other side of the fence their neighbor is planting something. My people have awakened. You see it in the streets. Like happy bumble bees they sense the warmth and come crawling out of their winter caves. The batteries in the fairylights hanging in the living rooms have died and the sun's rays are now what keeps them smiling. My people are smiling now. They're holding hands. They're walking around with picnic blankets and beers and portable speakers. Some even dare to show their pale winter legs, getting themselves a head start on the tanning season we all abuse so recklessly. People are drawn to the water. The canal and the ocean. Fruits are on sale and it's okay to wear your sunglasses without looking like a douchebag now. We're nicer to each other now and that's why I love this season. It makes me want to stay. But it wouldn't be this nice if we hadn't gone through the rainy winter. You can't have your ups without having the downs, I guess. The day seems so full of potential. The breweries are getting ready for the summer sales. There's the sound of a beer can opening in the court yard. The sales will take care of themselves. The little bumble bees are thirsty for summer.