No more whistling in the dark, the winter’s over. I’ve decreed it. Nothing but blue skies from now on.
There will be a medal-conferring ceremony at Hook Mill for all those who stayed, the date and time to be announced.
Saturday morning I went about singing, “I feel worthy, oh so worthy / I feel worthy and nervy and wry / And I pity / Anybody who hasn’t suffered as have I.”
“Isn’t it a wonderful day?” everyone was saying, no matter if you knew them or not. We had awakened, finally, and the hope for better things — less snow, more light being high on the list — was in the air.
All of a sudden, it seemed as if the sun and we again were in sync, that all would be well. You could feel it at the ice rink, you could feel it at the beach, wherever you went.
And perhaps it was fitting too, in my case, that I had a few days before finished “The Divine Comedy,” which I’d put down weeks before, midway through Paradise.
“So what happened?” said Mary.
“He saw God, the light,” I said. “And, the great thing, it made sense! It’s too bad it doesn’t altogether make sense for us. . . .”
“But you’ve always said we’re moving toward the light, remember, like the plants. So, we’ll just have to continue carrying on.”
“Carrying on — a capital idea. Margaritas tonight!”
In addition to the sun and the beauty that surrounds us — yes, even when it’s snowing again and we’re leaning in toward the fire — there is also the sense that here we’re blessed — even though we know that the gift of life is mixed, that there’s suffering and beauty, anguish and grace, sorrow and joy, debasement and transcendence.
So, let’s hear it for spring. May there be a spring in your step. And may there be charity toward all.
(Of course, if it’s snowing today, I take it all back.)