Our Spring Will Come


Sidewalks are the new riverbed. Water rushes down the slightest incline over cracks that break your mother’s back. Liquid leans over the frozen curb and flows down the path of least resistance.

But not you, little boy. You pick the hard way. You bypass smooth terrain and slushy asphalt. You summit each and every, yes, EVERY mountain of plowed snow. You hold out your hand to pull me up. I say okay. It’s more fun when you’re in charge.

Rain taps, chisels, chips away at winter’s stone. Moisture settles on our cheeks. My eyes go misty. Fog hovers above snow, moving slowly like my legs do in dreams. It swirls down into ravines. All through the woods we see open paths, naked trees, no leaves to hide the view. Our snow boots want to follow.

I say let’s go back for my camera. You say okay, let’s jump the fence. And then another. I believe you that I can be that girl once again, the one who tore her jeans on chain link.

Hoof-marks dot snow drifts. Lanky-fingered prints betray robber raccoons. We giggle at rabbit droppings and the frayed grape vine in the yard, signs of those who’ve lived through winter’s spell.

I remember the way you made your own tracks once. My battery dies. I’ve got just one picture, a snapshot of your boots on melting snow. But I’ve got these images in my head…and sounds too.

“We just took the kind of walk that involved climbing over two fences!” You gallop over to tell it to the neighbors. I feel the warmth in my chest.

Grates guzzle and gulp. We slide off a waning iceberg to puddle jump at the meeting of winter and spring. Out here and in me, a spell breaks.



After I’d written this piece, I came across this lovely Langston Hughes excerpt from The Underground through @langston_poems on Twitter. Enjoy…

9 thoughts on “Our Spring Will Come

  1. There are so many place in our world that would so love to have winter runoff! I pray for those who are in drought.

    • Yes. While some of the ideologies mentioned as dangers in Langston Hughes’ poem have been squelched from world power, there is still so much oppression in the world. May we be streams of life that run over at the edges, softening hardened hearts!

  2. I loved this piece. It was pure poetry! Your words feed my soul. I have to print this and tuck it into my box of favorite things.

    • Thank you, Vickie. It was such a life-giving moment (or hour) for me that I had to write it down. It makes me extra happy that it moved you, too.

    • Thank you, Priscilla. Who knew there were so many flurries still to come around here in the past month. Weather doesn’t always respect the calendar. Our spring will come…sometime soon? :)

  3. Darcy, this is such a beautifully written piece. I love the way you let your son lead you….”It’s more fun when you’re in charge”. My favorite parenting moments are when I yield to looking at life through my kid’s eyes whatever their age and linger with them over what has captured their attention and passion. I think it quickens my heart to want to be more childlike in the way I walk with my heavenly Father. I anticipate more beautiful writing from you in this season of winter meeting spring:)

    • You have always been a beautiful example of one who embraces motherhood as more than a role but an adventure. Thank you for pouring into me years ago across the ocean and for your special attention just last week during a rough time here at home. As far as this piece goes, it’s another example of the fact that when I’m away from my tasks around home I seem to be better able to relax and experience things from the angle of my kids. Always an invigorating experience that leaves me better equipped to do the rest of my work.

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