It’s the fifth of April as I write this and I’m looking out the window at snow that refuses to melt.

At one point last week, I was becoming hopeful that spring was just around the corner. The sun was staying a bit longer, and the warmth through the window felt nice.

But as the frigid air slapped my face for what seems like the 300th day this year, I could feel my spirits fall.

I’d like to think I’m a patient person, but I know better.

So maybe it’s just me, struggling with the anticipation of warmer weather and green grass.

Maybe I’m the only one desperate to see a redbreasted Robin jumping on my lawn.

So tonight, once again I dig deep and sigh,

letting go of my frustration,

and praying for sun.