Last night I walked from my car to my apartment slower than usual, taking time to breathe in the damp, rain-scented air and look around me. I feel like I've had my eyes closed for a long time; suddenly there are buds on the trees and flowers on the ground. Somehow, in the midst of the longest winter of my life, spring has come.
For the last several months I've been in hibernation. Certain experiences have driven me to immerse myself in school and other responsibilities, and I've been consumed by them. Not that I haven't been myself-- there are many times when the sun peeks out from behind the clouds-- but like the winter sun, I have felt distant. Detached. Somehow apart from everything that is going on around me. I've felt old, faded, past my prime...like I'm drying up and withering away.
*****
The change has been coming on gradually, greatly helped by recent council and advice from my parents, but last night I really began to recognize it. I sat down with a person whose professional opinion I have come to respect and received an evaluation of myself. With fear and anxiety I approached his desk, afraid that what I might hear would confirm the wilted feelings I've been having; instead I was surprisingly illuminated. Phrases like, "I gained a whole new level of respect for you" and "You're going to do really, really well in whatever you decide to pursue after this" broke through clouds and spilled sunlight across the cold, frozen earth. "Me?" I thought to myself as I drove home, "Am I really that strong? This diminished, tired soul has that much potential?" For so long I've been thinking that I am behind, that life has already passed me by, and there is nothing I can do about it. But to know that someone actually sees my efforts for what they are and values them almost as much as I do... that changes things. I parked my car next to a tree and as I got out I noticed that the branches that were barren yesterday are covered with thick green buds, waiting to burst open into their full splendor and life. How did I not notice it sooner?
The ground above me is cracking open, and a small but strong beam of light is filtering in, warming me. I'm reaching toward the sky and only time will tell how much I will grow and what color and shape my life will take. I am not old, withered, or past my prime.
I am a perennial. 
