Searching for daffodils

 

Photo by Kavita Joshi Rai on Unsplash

Recently, I dealt with a bad bout of depression. I think it had a lot to do with the weather; it was wet, cold, cloudy, and gray. 

This week, I went to my doctor for my annual checkup, and she told me that she’d seen a daffodil in her front yard. 

I thought, “Daffodils? Cool!”

In Atlanta, where I live, the first harbingers of spring are daffodils, cherry trees, and forsythia. I start expecting daffodils around the end of February. So when I heard that my doctor had seen a daffodil in her yard, I decided it was time to start looking. 

On the way home, I glanced at a grouping of flowers at the base of a mailbox. Sure enough, they were daffodils! 

I’m smart enough to know that daffodils will not cure my depression. I take my meds and check in regularly with my counselor and psychiatrist. I also have a group of friends I confide in. 

But knowing that spring will come, knowing that the seasons will follow in order, and seeing those signs of each season coming — it helps. 

Next month will mark two years since the pandemic really hit for me. I date the beginning of the pandemic from March 13, 2020, when our governor declared a state of emergency and everything started shutting down. It was the day I took both my son and myself for haircuts and then went to Kroger. 

During those first few days, I walked in a park and I reminded myself, “Spring will come. Spring always comes. Even in a pandemic, spring will come.”

Today I am enjoying temperatures in the 60’s. By Sunday, we may have snow showers. Winter has not left us yet. Daffodils are only the first shots in the war on winter. 

But, even in the middle of a pandemic, even in the middle of a bout of depression, spring comes. 

This is why I go searching for daffodils in February. 

And why I always find them. 

Because they remind me that spring is coming. 

Like it always does.

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.