i like lots of things about spring. green things starting to poke out of damp black soil. murky puddles rippling in the cool breeze. the freshness of the air, how it feels like it scrubs my lungs. new growth. new beginnings.
except spring is hard, too. the smell of the mud. the bare trees against brilliant blue skies. crisp air and sunshine. my birthday. all sneaky, horrible, cumulative triggers.
it happens every year, there is a day that is so similar to that day long ago, and it all goes sideways. even if i think i’ve escaped it, even if i’m sure i’ll dodge it, i don’t.