Everywhere I see visions of life rising: Buds thrusting defiantly into the chilly air, shrubs growing greener with each day. I yearn to merge with the happily blooming world, but my faith in the possibilities of personal renewal is fragile.
Lately I have been thinking a lot about whether love and intimacy can return in the second half of life–after divorce, the emptying of the nest, the abrasion of body and spirit. I chide myself for wanting to revive these youthful joys in my sixth decade. How can I hope to experience such stirrings again? Have I not already used up all my chances to create life with another?
The longing to awaken my heart is achingly present on these March days. The light shines with illuminating clarity, unveiling the winter-shuttered rooms of my home and the fallen branches in my abandoned garden. Gently, like a lover pushing aside a lock of hair to gaze at his beloved and tell her what he sees, spring pulls back the curtain covering my winter weary soul and speaks to me.