In my neck of the woods, the promise of spring is starting to appear. The once-barren trees now have cherry blossoms peeking out. And the air – the type that freezes the inside of your nostrils and hits your chest so it’s hard to breathe and hurts your already-chapped face – is little by little warming up and not feeling so miserable.
Every morning when I go out to walk my dog, I say to myself, “Wow, I can’t wait for winter to end.”
“I can’t wait for spring to come and for the flowers to bloom.”
I can’t wait. I can’t wait. I can’t wait.
Hmm. I’ve noticed that this seems to be a pattern. Not just with the weather, but for many things in life.