It’s almost spring, the calendar says, but the weather’s cold again today. Through the garden debris, the columbine are almost ready to unfurl their leaves. The peony tips are visible, almost pushing through the black dirt.
My life is a reflection of my flower garden. Mom’s house is almost sold, we’ve cleared out almost all it’s contents, and I’ve almost figured out her finances. I’m almost done going through the editor’s suggestions for A Different Dream, the mystery manuscript is almost done, and I’m almost ready for a speaking engagement. My house is almost in order, the bathrooms are almost clean, and I almost have the weekend menu planned.
The problem is, just like spring, I’m stuck at almost. As soon as I almost finish something, something more serious arises and I have abandon what’s almost done to address the other. Almost finished projects are piling up so fast they’re almost drowning me.
All I can do until April 10, when we close on Mom’s house, is make peace with the almosts. My friend came up with a perfect way to do it. We’re going to hear the author Bill Bryson speak at Drake University tonight. He’s a Des Moines native who lives in England and almost never gets back to Iowa. The talk will be an almost perfect ending to an almost winter day in what claims to be spring. And to think, I almost missed the opportunity.
Thanks for inviting me, Cindy.
