on fool's spring

i’m still rubbing the sleep out of my eyes as i await my delayed flight through grey skies. the coffee bar only had oat milk for iced lattes, not hot ones. this perplexes me but it is far too early to try and figure out why. i needed something to warm me from the inside so i take a drip coffee with a splash of cream. i usually try to avoid coffee before flights to minimize any additional jitters (aside from the ones that inherently come from hurtling through the sky), but the yawning was getting egregious.

at last i make it home to my little burrow in this toy city. it’s an obnoxiously beautiful day, with the caveat of gust winds interrupting the fool’s spring pleasantries. i put down my bags, pile on my beanie and coat in hopes they keep me from blowing away, and head into the day. i mosey past lovers doting on each other, parents chasing children, and hot-girl-walk-ers. the world feels more vivid than usual, like a haze has lifted. the flowers turn their faces towards the sun, and so do i.

i’m approaching two months of being back in the city, and it’s brought a lot with it. hesitantly diving deep into murky waters of my psyche and coming back up for air with a few little treasures from the trenches. feeling immense gratitude for where i have ended up, taking a look back at the long and windy road that has brought me back here, again, and recognizing the growth that somehow happened along the way while i stumbled on those twists and turns. in the same breath, having moments of real doubt and fear as feelings i thought were dead and gone are resurrected by my old local haunts.

and here i am, being with it. it feels silly how the seemingly simplest thing to do is often the hardest. there is so much noise and i’m trying to just tune into my channel, not hear everything all at once. the loudness needs the quiet. but the quiet also needs the chatter of friends, the laugh of a lover, the watchful advice of a mother. and especially in the current state of affairs, we all need a reminder to take care of each other.

good morning, welcome to Earth! what do you plan to do during your stay here? perhaps you can watch the tiny teardrops the night time leaves on blades of grass, for the morning sun to shine her light on. or maybe take a look at the small winged creatures, who choose to primarily stay on their feet and run in and out with the tide, never quite able to capture it (we’re not quite sure why they do this but boy, do they seem to enjoy it). or may i interest you in some sustenance to start your day – a cake made in a pan, with dark melty morsels that we usually don’t allow ourselves to eat until a later, much more acceptable hour. we are open 24/7, 365 days a year, and have endless options to choose from! though brief, we hope you enjoy your stay.

i’m wishing you all endless delights, big and small, in the midst of all the noise. i wish you moments of quiet that feel like a sigh of relief.

i love you big,
cole