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.
