It’s a beautiful day in Cincinnati; breezy and cool, though sunny. It’s the kind of day I love. It’s the kind of day I would love to have something to do. That said, I don’t want to go to a movie. I don’t want to go shopping. In fact, I don’t want to do anything indoors. Therefore, I don’t know what to do. Nothing really seems appealing. Should I have lunch in the park? Should I go for a ride? What should I do?
If I were working I would open the blinds in the classroom. I would invite my students to look out the windows, to think about spring. I would suggest that they think about how to write about spring without invoking the clichés we are so tempted to use when we talk about this season. I would suggest that there’s something besides those clichés to think about when we think about spring. It’s not about flowers; it’s not about sun; it’s not about getting out of the house. In fact, it’s not about any of the familiar clichés.
It’s about – well, I’m not sure I know what it’s about. That said, I can feel what it’s about, though I can’t quite articulate it. I feel that a weight has been lifted. I am starting to remember how to function with more freedom. I am starting to remember how to do things on my own. That’s good; it means that I need less help. That’s good; I love being able to do things on my own. It means I can go to the bathroom by myself and have a little privacy. It means I can brush my teeth as many times in the day as I want to. It means that I have earned evenings full of fatigue.
It’s a beautiful day, and I’m not alone, though I wish I was. It would mean that I was experiencing the sun by myself. It means that I would feel the freedom of the warm new season. It would mean the kind of freedom that comes with solitude. I crave that; it’s so much better than being ignored. I would rather be alone than to feel like I’m being ignored. It’s a beautiful day and, really, I am alone.