Spring has sprung …

Yes, perhaps I have lost my mind, or what little of it I have left.

Does spring mean it is time to do a recap of what we have accomplished thus far this year or this decade? How much of that “to do” list did you finish last week?

I am a list maker. If the chore or errand is not accomplished on the day designated, I merely circle it and move it to another day, to another list. Meant to finish, didn’t get around to completing, it wasn’t my fault because I was busy.

There are items on my list that archive back to the seventies.

The habit of “to do” lists began in earnest in my thirties. Lists tacked to a bulletin board, taped on to the medicine cabinet, post-its on the refrigerator, bookmarks in notebooks, typed memos to myself, and every other year, call mom and get her Christmas list since I lost my copy again.

Each year, like a timed recording she would chide me … “Once in a while you could write someone a letter you know.”

I know, ma, I know. It’s on my list.

These are the lyrics of a meloncholy song of spring …

Spring is here! Why doesn’t my heart go dancing?
Spring is here! Why isn’t the waltz entrancing?
No desire, no ambition leads me,
maybe it’s because nobody needs me?
Spring is here! Why doesn’t the breeze delight me?
Stars appear! Why doesn’t the night invite me?
Maybe it’s because nobody loves me,
spring is here, I hear

Waiting for the
The bloom on the vine,
I am,


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