“Spring Has Sprung”
That was said by my mom waking me up on the first day of spring.
“DR, spring has sprung; time to get up.” My mom wasn’t terribly funny. She thought saying that was funny. When you’re fourteen to seventeen, it’s not.
However, it did make me look at things with fresh eyes. I was looking for possibilities when I was a teen. The possibility I could go live by myself and find A great job. A new girlfriend for each season always seemed like a good idea, along with dances like the “spring fling.”
When I went into the Air Force, spring meant that we could wear 1505s (lightweight dress uniforms), and I could put the top down on my Type E convertible Jaguar.
When I became a Father, it meant that a lot of noise could be released outside. The more children we had, the more important this was. We finished with six.
When I found myself single, it meant more workouts at the beach and working longer hours at work.
I married the love of my life (for the past thirty-nine years), and things changed again. She saw; therefore, I saw the new spring as a time to watch my home depot and Lowes credit cards carefully. I watched our stack of fertilizer in the same way. With a third of an acre planted with grass and flowers, there was no shortage of work and home modifications to do.
As I approached my seventies, I realized that spring was a little harder on me each year. I set about working on a plan to ensure that all modifications or repairs to our home would be addressed before I turned seventy-five. With a couple of small exceptions, we did it.
Anything new would be done by my willing son-in-law and or one of my sons, that only lives four hours away. Bonus, we get to see two of our grandchildren and our daughter-in-law, along with our son.
Now, I’ve passed seventy-five; what happens now? Imagine me sitting on the couch reading Dancing Elephant Press contest submissions. Suddenly I remembered that it’s spring. So, I asked my wife, “When is the spring cleaning lady coming over?” She replied, “Maybe you should write this down. Every Wednesday from 9 am to 2:30 pm.”
Deep in my brain, I hear that still, small voice saying, “Thank God for Wednesdays.”
The Spring contest is well underway. There’s a prize, and the stories we’ve received so far are amazing. Click on this:
I’m looking forward to reading your submission.
