I hate April Fools Day. I spend a lot of time actively avoiding looking foolish, and here is a day whose sole intention is to make me look like an idiot. No thanks. It’s not going to be pretty if someone puts a box of donuts in the workroom that actually contains carrots.
Sometimes I feel like I’m on a roller coaster without a safety bar. I spent part of this week in complete freak-out mode because Rowan is going to be a year old, but he should only be ten months old, and all of the feelings I’ve avoided so well for the last few months have been threatening to send this car plunging. I’m keeping my hands and feet inside the ride and holding on tight.
Who the eff thought leap year was a good idea?
“You know Julius, we really need to get an extra day in every four years or so.”
Today is a day to get my hands in the dirt. To wear out underused muscles as I prepare the earth for the Spring that will come eventually. A day that begs to be spent outside, even when it rains. It’s not a day to worry about the weather tomorrow.
I think about what it feels like to throw open my windows on a warm spring day as I clean, organize, and create. My refrain of “what’s next?!” is full of zeal; the next project, the next task, the next activity all lined up waiting with impatience.
The summer child is running, the summer child is running again.
The summer child is running, the summer child is running again
When you hear the feet and the sound of laughter,
Better step aside for the mayhem after
Here she comes, yeah the summer child is running again.
– Dar Williams