In Like a Lamb

I opened the windows today.

And, I breathed.

For the first time, in this morale recession they call winter, I breathed. And just as if I were playing the role of that blissfully put-together domestic angel on the set of a dryer sheet commercial (heh, chuckle-worthy thought, no doubt), the floor-length drapes billowed and surrendered to the winds of this first day of March. And subsequently, I surrendered my pessimism and winter cynicism, and implored that, on the wake of those uptopic breezes, the Almighty deliver both far from my reach.

And, again... for the first time in a long time... I have faith it will actually happen. Perhaps this March Lion they speak of is soon to be on the prowl. Perhaps these gentle breezes that signal the promise of spring will themselves be forced to surrender to the storms of more ominous days to come. (Oh, come on. Let's get real. If any of you unfortunate readers have skimmed over even a phrase or two of my previous posts, you'll have to agree that "perhaps" should read "bat down the hatches and prepare for the worst".) But, as long as this new March wind billows and blows, I believe I'll continue to summon the lambish (heh, sheepish) bits of my heart in defense, should that cowardly feline come a knocking.

Here kitty, kitty. Blow wind, blow.