I appreciate a day like this that I don't feel guilty I've wasted spring, but languish a bit in cold: memory and heart, socks on feet, blanket shawl. That I don't have to force a happy facade of windows open or wonder why my heart isn't in line with birds singing. Where trees are still bare enough, and I can feel my soul laid bare.
"Genuine grief is the deep sadness and weeping that expresses the acceptance of our inability to do anything about our losses. It is a prelude to letting go, to relinquishment. It is dying that precedes resurrection." Recovering from Losses in Life by H. Norman Wright, quote by Roy Fairchild.
It's gray and cloudy and my mood doesn't have to sing sunshine. I can hibernate one more day--this cozy cocoon of home. So I will.