I remember, as a child, looking at the calendar bulletin board in class. March usually had cut-outs of a roaring lion at the beginning of the month and a docile lamb at the end: March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb. The old adage refers to March’s weather, of course, and I never thought of it any differently.
But, I have lived most of my life in places where weather doesn’t happen that way. It’s either the rainy season or the dry season. It’s warm or it’s cool. It’s not changeable, volatile or moody. Today, where I am, the weather is sunny and cool, on its way to warm. I am sitting out back, and I am perfectly comfortable in the shade. The mulberry tree we had pruned so far back it looked dead at the beginning of March is now sprouting leaves, vibrant green against blue sky.
I woke up this morning thinking “in like a lion, out like a lamb,” and because the weather is obviously not a factor, I’ve concluded my subconscious must be telling me something. Or maybe my kids and my husband are sending me telepathic messages. I think what it boils down to is “chill out.”
These last few weeks, I have been unusually changeable, volatile, moody. I can chalk it up to circumstance — that is, a temporarily absent husband during a temporarily trying time, or I can chalk it up to brain chemicals, or I can just chalk it up to a plain old bad mood brought on by six months of unemployment and no end in sight.
But today, where I am, the sun is bright. The birds are singing. A soft breeze blows my hair away from my face. It’s spring, and a time for new beginnings. I am back to school on Monday to start copyediting classes. I found out this week that I will be going to a writer’s workshop in July. I have the world’s best, most understanding husband and the world’s coolest, quirkiest kids. I have goals to meet and dreams to strive for. My works in progress await me (no, not my kids — the other ones).
I am the mulberry tree, and life is good.