I think I’m ready for spring break. It is most likely seventy to eighty degrees warmer in various locations around America, and I’m ready to go there. Images of paradise seem to be popping up on the television, on the radio, and in my head.
I walked down the Persson steps late afternoon last week, enjoying the fact that it was still light out at 5:15 p.m. The sun was setting, the temperature steadily dropping, snow stalagmites still looming. But as I looked down, I could see patches of green grass emerging alongside the staircase. Finally, I thought. Spring.
And as I went to Case library that night, shivering, with a load of books to review for my midterm and a very large mug, I anticipated when I would see even more of those patches of green. Maybe in two months.