An Open Letter To The Spring

An Open Letter To The Spring
By: Nora LaFata

Screen Shot 2016-05-09 at 7.52.24 PMOh. Hey spring. Unlike practically everyone in the universe, I’m not all that happy to see you. (gasp!) Don’t get me wrong, you’re kind of awesome. I mean I love all the flowers. And I actually prefer the rain. I was born in the spring for sobbing out loud. You know who wasn’t, though? My daughter. She died during winter’s death rattle. She died and you arrived like, the very next day. Or at least it felt like you did, and I’ve never forgiven you. So this is for you, Spring. Whatever this is, between us…it’s over. Spring, you’re a tease. Must you mock me, with all your collaborations? All of your ginghams and greens and growth? Try and tempt me. Go ahead. I think you’re really pretty, but we can’t be friends. All that sun is blinding, you know? And all that promise.. You see Spring, your blooms remind me of the one that never was. Never opened her eyes to see. Never stretched her beauty to the skies, watched the sun dance it back on black pavement. Never did. Never knew. Never will. Try as I might I can’t welcome you. Rays through windows onto skin and still, this preference for the cold. For the heavy layers that warmed her. Such a failed incubation. Such a joke. And you’re laughing. Aren’t you, Spring?

I need space. We’re moving too fast. It’s not me, it’s you. Take your things and go. “Welcome, Spring!” and “Spring has sprung!” Spring break and box springs and springing in the rain. But what if the rain never stops? Spring, have you ever watched them die? All of your pretty blooms, watched them grow and sway with your soft breezes. Watched them move beneath your skin, be still your heart. Too still. And Spring, do the colors ever slay you? Make you wish it all gray. Will you back to bed. Back to dreams. Back to her. Oh Spring I wish it weren’t so. I wish you shone like before. I wish I knew you like the others. I wish you were a friend. But Spring, it cannot be. She left me in the frost. Must you? Must you pull me from it?

You can read more from Nora in memory of her daughter Josie on her blog, Here Comes the Sun,


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