Not Losing Sight of Spring

On May 19, the first day of level 3 ASL class, I introduced myself by fingerspelling my name, signing my location (Queens), and signing my favorite season (spring). 

The next day, in the midst of a stretch of 3 – 4 days where the temperature climbed above 90 degrees Fahrenheit, I walked across the street to my favorite coffee shop. My eyeglasses, being greeted by sticky air, immediately fogged up. 

I grumbled—momentarily—before remembering my ASL introduction. My name is Elizabeth. I live in Queens. My favorite season is spring. 

Is it not still spring? Have I succumbed to my summer sadness too soon? 

As I’ve watched the internal temperature of my apartment creep higher… as I’ve exchanged my winter sweaters for sundresses… as I’ve found myself sweating on the subway and cursing summer in its entirety, I’ve had to remind myself that we still have 18 days of my favorite season.

Spring can feel squeezed. A long winter. An early summer. It can feel like a forgotten thing, an in between, a transition. It can feel easy and automatic to rush from one extreme (winter) to another (summer). 

Perhaps that is part of my affinity for spring. A gentle in between. A time to thaw from the cold. A time to brace for the heat. A time to reflect on where we’ve been and to dream about where we’re going.