Year Without a Summer

Ohio in this time of year is a cruel joke.  Personally, I truthfully enjoy the snow, cold, blanket of white, and silence that winter brings.  It's something I begin missing every year around November, when the leaves have fallen, and the Autumn color palette of reds, oranges, and yellows have turned to brown death.  Winter comes along every year here, sealing the earth, and wiping it clean every spring.

But in March, we only get glimpses of the impending rebirth.  There will be a day of mid sixty degree weather, with the sun shining and the windows down, and then winter returns, just as it's doing today, as I write this.

Megan's rejection process followed much the same schedule.  Last winter, we were ready to start a new year of life and sunny days together with Shelby, but by spring, the cruel joke had started.  What we originally believed to just be a minor setback, the 30 degree snowy day following the hopeful, sunny day we had before, turned out to be a permanent winter. 

We had a year without a summer.  There were no spring flowers, no long lazy days sitting out on the deck, no happy, relaxing talks on a road trip.  It was just winter.  It was winter until October, when we got the fall colors that were the last hope of her getting a transplant.

November came, and the colors started to fade.  Leaf by leaf, certain aspects of her health, mind, and heart started to fall to the ground.

On November 19th, the last leaf fell, and I was plunged back into winter.  

Winter remained as scheduled here in Ohio.  When I just sat, frozen and sealed inside my mind after losing that last little leaf.  There were a few indian summers, like we always have, when I returned to Crossfit, for instance, and realized that even for a few hours a day, I could have warm sunny weather in my mind.  

But it wasn't enough to convince me that spring would eventually return.  I would still have to deal with returning home to the cold. 

But I found a place where spring could finally begin.  I had to go travel south, to Florida, where it's continual spring and summer.  As soon as I arrived, I caught a glimpse of that first daffodil, cracking through the frozen surface of the forest floor at the end of winter.  I could hope for what summer would be like again.  I stared at that daffodil for a moment, and realized that it symbolized a new round of seasons.  I could finally have a "next summer".  

Megan always loved daffodils, for the same reasons.  They were always the first indicator that the long, cold, crappy winter (that she NEVER enjoyed) was almost over.  

Although it may be cold, snowy, and generally crappy here in Ohio as I write this, I'm pretty sure it's a nice warm late spring day for me.  Summer is right around the corner, and I don't think I'm going to be missing winter for a long time.