Ken Wasil

SPRING

It was a day like no other.  One could appreciate it in contrast to the long cold winter it punctuated, the barren grey and brown woods, the gravel, tree branches, and debris strewn on the streets and lawns, and the hard look on people’s faces still wrapped in heavy coats and mufflers.  The previous day was cold, cloudy, windy with snow flurries throughout the morning and afternoon.  Rain was scheduled for the following two days, then a promise of warmer weather.  However, no one believed it.  Not after snow storms in mid-April.  One lady, when asked if we’d ever see spring said sardonically, “It’s inevitable.”

The day began with a disconsolate peek between curtains out a window and a reluctant hand slid between doorjamb and screen door to test the temperature. But miraculously, when Fred Wilcox read the thermometer on his front porch at 7:00 am, it declared a comfortable 49 degrees Fahrenheit.  Jane Sampson, a nurse at Massachusetts General Hospital, decided to leave her overcoat at home and wear a spring print dress with a peach colored sweater.  James Washington, a stockbroker on Wall Street, threw off his heavy garb, donned a bicycle helmet, and rode through central park to work. 

A sweetness permeated the air—a gentleness—a clear, healing, heavenly lightness was having its way with everything and everyone it touched.  People, who normally jostled each other on their way down 5th Avenue or in the crowds on 14th Street at Union Square, smiled at each other and stepped aside.  “Hey sorry, man . . . what a day, huh!”

At 11:00 am, the full force of the day on the population caught on—streets were jammed with cars and pedestrians, people paraded through Central Park looking for the first shoots of ice drops, crocus, daffodils and new growth on bushes and trees.  Women wore spring and summer colors, men had on shirt sleeves, joggers were out in shorts and tank tops.

A drivers who happened to tap the bumper of another car said, “Sorry about that, my friend.” 

“Don’t worry, no harm done.”

 “Here’s my number, give me a call."

"No, I'll let it go, don't worry about it."

"No, not about the accident, let's do lunch.”

 People weren’t the only ones affected—trees, bushes, grass, bulbs lying dormant and seemingly dead for six months were touched by the magical force of the day.  Perhaps it was a certain light or the combination of life giving forces that encourage the verdure to sprout and grow in a matter of hours.  What was a grey barren trunk and branches in the morning, was a flowering cherry tree in the afternoon.  Apple, Peach, Plum trees blossomed and sprouted greenery.  Hyacinths, tulips, forsythias, and anemones came into all their glory. 

Robins, starlings, and Canadian geese that had been braving the grey, brown fields for weeks, choking on last falls seeds and stubble, gobbled down fresh greens as fast as their beaks could swallow them.  Sparrows and starlings found fresh pools of water and dipped their breasts and fluttered their wings to splash water over their bodies for the first baths of spring.  They were joined by doves, thrush, and redwing black birds in joyfully calling in the season.

A police officer who stopped a motorist for speeding said, “Now you know you were speeding don’t you, Miss?”

“Oh yes, officer, I’m late.  I took an extra fifteen minutes to take Fido for a walk; it was too nice a day to pass up.”

“It’s really a day, isn’t it?  You be careful now.  Have a good one.”

Husbands forgave wives, and wives husbands.  “Oh John, that was my mother’s vase you broke this morning,” with a laugh.

"I'm  truly sorry, ."

“To be honest, I was so tired of looking at it that I was ready for a new one.”

“Surprise my love!  Here’s a new vase from Tiffany’s with fresh red roses to boot.”

“Roses, Oh I haven’t had a bouquet for so long.  You’re a darling.  Thank you.”  She gave him a kiss; they embraced, and she took his hand and led him into the bedroom.

Bosses over looked workers faux pas, “Sorry I’m late Mrs. Stark.”

“No problem, Benjamin.  I was enjoying the day so much that I was running late, too.  Now you go into the break room; they’re celebrating Jenny’s birthday.”

In the House of Representative the recalcitrant speaker from Ohio who had defeated bill after bill with a slim majority, walked into the chamber and put his arm around the minority leader, “What can we do to compromise on this vote on next year’s budget—and the university rider?  My daughter told me this morning she thought we should pass it to keep the cost of a university education down.  Otherwise, most of her friends will have to drop out of school because they can't afford their college tuition.  And besides, it’s such nice day, I was hoping to get home early and join my family for a walk on the national mall before dinner.”

“I could go along with that.  The university bill means more jobs and a better educated population.”

“The congressman from Kentucky seconds that.”

“And the one from Texas thirds it.”

And in a government chamber halfway across the world, where hot sands met crystal turquoise seas, the United States Secretary of State sat with his counterpart.  It was a warmer climate where spring had already begun, yet the day was fine.  A sweet breeze flew off the Mediterranean Sea and brushed the orange, pineapple, and apricot trees wafting their scent throughout the barren hills, valleys, and cities.  And a strong current in the water brought nutrients to the surface that produced an abundance of fish that satisfied the fishermen. 

Upon the land and among the people there was a peacefulness—oh, I don’t know if it was the day per say . . . . “  Now Ms. Secretary of State, I’ve been thinking . . . perhaps, we could halt that construction on the frontier and move forward on the lasting peace with our adversary this spring, It’s about time, isn’t it?” 

“If that’s what you want to do, Mr. Minister.”

“I talked to the Prime Minister this morning, in fact.  He said, 'Let's stop all this fuss.  Now is as good a time as any to complete that peace process.'”

 

 

All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Ken Wasil.
Published on e-Stories.org on 11/07/2017.

 

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