I wasn’t much of an outdoors kid, really. I lived in my head. My imagination was plenty. I could find worlds there that kept me busy for days. I could find castles and dragons, and knights and ladies — except on the first days of spring, then I was torn away.
On the first days of spring, I was on my bike seeing how the neighborhood had changed.
There was something about moving from the blacktop of Main Street to the bricks of Congress Street over by Washington School where the kids were playing again. There was something about feeling the change in vibrations through seat of my bike as I made my way there.
I’d stop by the swingset. I’d give it a try one more time. Nothing like a swingset to make a kid feel like she could fly. Then back it would be to my bike to see where the neighbors had been all winter and what they’d been doing.
There’s something about that first real weekend of spring that makes the whole world feel new again.
On the first day of spring, I didn’t even mind homework. . . .
I’m not the type to ride a bike in the city, but I sure am the type to enjoy a spring day — or even a day that reminds me that spring is coming.
This morning, I look out the window and see a blue, blue lake. The harbor is blue and so is the lake beyond it. Any minute now the sailboats will be returning.
I’ll be having that spring bike-riding feeling all weekend, because I can’t help but enjoy being alive when I’m thinking that way.