I have left my window open to the darkness and the streetlight; the frogs are loud tonight, a chorus of noise, calls answering and echoing out to one another. It is the first time I hear them here, I think, and it feels like a promise that Spring is on its way. That she will be here soon.
For a moment this evening the rain quieted down, and for the first time in days the sky bled into blue. Sunshine for dusk, and trees in bloom, petals painting the sidewalk white. It felt good, to be outside, and to not be cold, and to not be wet.
I have been the kind of frazzled and anxious that has me reaching for my phone and drowning the discomfort in numbness and in noise. My eyes sting and I feel sedated, and a little lost.
I remember writing it, no but seriously, put down your phone, and I want to try again. To quiet down, to turn the noise on low. To log off and see what happens, that is to say, nothing, probably, except breathing easier and more time to doodle.
The frogs are going strong still, and I am tired. I’ve logged off, too, and it scares me, and it astounds me that it would. It makes me all the more wanting to try.