By Bryce Yoder, Student Writer in Residence


I went outside in a sweatshirt and jeans
and I thought to myself,
damn, could it be spring?
But more than the expected changing of the seasons,
I have reasons to want a new beginning.
It’s not about the birds singing
or the cool breeze stinging
and I couldn’t care less about pollen jettisoning from the plants now in bloom
but I do care if it’s spring.
See,
rebirth isn’t just for nature
and after three hundred and sixty-five days of near constant shadow
how could I not want the world to start again?
Am I not within my own human wishes to want to be able to once again give hugs and kisses?
Am I not allowed to reminisce on the things I’ve been missing
and to want them to begin again?
Not at all,
my friend.
And I’m sure you’re in my boat.
Of course,
it only kind of floats,
and I’m fooling myself if I think warmer weather means anything gets better
(except maybe my mood)
you can’t end a pandemic by wearing a sweater
or going on a walk on a crisp afternoon –
my desire for normal-a-cy is a self-contained fallacy;
I know we aren’t out of the woods
but hot damn do I wish we were.
I will sit in my basement until the end of time
and the destruction of the earth
if it means less people die from a disease we could have stopped in its tracks
with any real preparation.
I will go to bat for the safety of a nation
that has proved that it doesn’t care if I live or die –
I will abandon my life
and all social encounters until I’m confident our floundering leadership has done what it can to
end this.
But that doesn’t mean I don’t still pick dandelions from my backyard
and makes wishes on their seeds
they’re ushered to the breeze.