The last piece of business in our morning meeting I remind the team that it’s the first day of spring. They asked for announcements and I can tell by the heaviness in the way they breathe that they just don’t know.
Spring is here.
Some are already leaving—slipping out the door to see that first patient—but I say it anyway. I let the words drop among the sound of chairs scraping floor and paper shuffling.
So tuck a new song in your heart, I whisper, touching the tips of fingers to my own. Eyebrows raise and so do the corners of lips and the air gets lighter and spring blows soft through the room.
Not everyone hears but the ones who do already flush with the new and they tease as they head out into the busy.
Sing us a song,they say and I laugh my way back to my office.
Can they hear it? This one in mine?
A couple hours later the song goes quiet and another therapist is keeping the patient I need to see and I stand in the hall with my list.
Just fifteen more minutes, he says.
A glimpse of gold catches my eye.
I’ll be on the patio, I say.
I sit in the sun on this first day of spring and my shadow lays flat on the concrete. There are two bumblebees darting in and out of the raised bed gardens and I close my eyes to their gentle hum. It’s the song, come back to me.
When the patient comes, we talk about dreams—about how they change and sometimes that’s good and we imagine what it looks like to dream from a wheelchair. Not too much different, we decide.
Everything changes, that dear heart says. Then we talk about the One who never does. And I tell about the new song—about the making new and how it can hurt.
And I think how brave the flower is to open to the light, to risk the soft womb of folded petals. Those bumblebees dart among and above us, doing whatever it is they do. And I give honor to the bravery of that round face lifted to the sun…here on the first day of spring.
I’m a morning person and happiest in a place with no walls. Give me a bed of grass and a blanket-sky and I will dream deep in wonder. But a good story takes me to this place too. And a poem? Even better. You can always find me here. Or connect with me on on facebook, twitter, or pinterest.