Not so much in accord (seriously!) with Lynyrd Skynyrd, but I was reminded of this phrase when lighting up the last of the frankincense and myrrh incense sticks I bought at Mexicali Blues for the holidays. Must be listening to a local rock station as a kid that’s finally catching up with me, but I digress. It really is now the bleak mid-winter and we wait for spring to come again.
Last weekend I brought our middle daughter and a college classmate to the airport so they could fly back to school together. Two weeks before I drove our eldest to Boston to send her on her way back to school in Washington, DC. Y’know what? It doesn’t get any easier as time goes on, at least not yet. After I graduated from high school I went to basic training, having enlisted in the U.S. Army Reserve (as part of the 1125th U.S. Army Hospital, if you really want to know.) I had developed a fondness for Tchaikowsky’s “Nutcracker” and had a cassette of the “Nutcracker Suite” performed by Arthur Fiedler and the Boston Pops Orchestra. It wasn’t until some time later that my mother told me, while I was homesick at Fort Knox, Kentucky, my dad was painting and listening to the cassette with tears in his eyes. Funny how little things change.
Last spring I was in Washington with two of our daughters having a wonderful time. We’ll see what this spring brings. Time to go burn up the rest of the incense now.