First Day of Spring

And I pull up, last second, out of the tail spin. Bringing the outside in, just like the magazines say. I haven't been myself lately. The words dried up, so I looked to the words of others to pull me through. And the objects of my home, the ones I had begun to take for granted in my doing-not-dreaming haze, I had to call on to remind me of who I think I am. They are the little crumbs I drop along the path, my little strings I tie around me to lead me home.

I planted trees, got my fingers caked in earth again. I ate more vegetables and drank not so much vino. I cleaned things, although I didn't feel like it. I've learned that it's always best to clean through one's funks--otherwise, when you wake up happy and well again one day, there's a dirty house you don't recognize waiting for you. If you're miserable anyhow, just clean. You'll be thankful.