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Melissa McNallan, Photo by Michael Hardwick

On Patience and Minnesota’s Weather | Journal Entry 20 of 108

May 3, 2018 Comments Off on On Patience and Minnesota’s Weather | Journal Entry 20 of 108

Photo by Michael Hardwick

I should be well-versed in the art of patience, because I have lived all forty years of my life in Minnesota. In this state, spring is hoped for in March. Heavy snow falls near the month’s end. Blizzards tumble in during high school basketball tournaments, which take place during March’s last week or so.

On Friday, April 13th there was thunder, rain, sleet, and snow. Cold days and more snow followed. Everyone I encountered seemed exhausted, on edge, or to be bearing a shoulder-shrugging acceptance. My fiance and I started looking at real estate in San Diego. In six more years his youngest will be an adult. Then, we can leave the state if we want.

At a beachside bar in San Diego a few years ago, my friends and I made small talk with the bartender. “Just another shitty day in San Diego.” Mid-seventies, sunny, no wind or rain in the forecast.

Spring is here.

I think she plans to unpack and stay. As I look out our sliding glass door from the dining room table where I sit writing, the grass at the bottom of the hill has a rich green hue, a blue jay sits on top of the neighbor’s fence, and though I can’t see the soft green buds on the tree branches, I trust that they’re there. The sky is a cheerful shade of blue and the clouds appear to be in good humor.

Or, as Bob Ross might say, they’re happy little clouds.

It takes patience to endure certain seasons here. This isn’t a state where spring steadily warms itself into summer. Snowstorms have happened in May.

My life has seen many troubling seasons. Sometimes my lack of patience brought on life’s storms. Vigilance bided me through them. Now that life’s weather pattern has turned to bliss with a few sprinkles here and there, it’s been hard to bid vigilance and his bodyguard-like associates panic, anxiety, and depression farewell. Their services are no longer required. Whenever clouds are on the horizon, they stop by to make sure. When my guard is down, sometimes they spend the night. It’s been a couple years since they’ve survived morning’s light.

This post is part of a series inspired by Eat Pray Love.