it’s late winter.
fuck it.
call it spring.
it’s spring here
in los angeles, and
it’s almost that
time of year again,
that time when the flowers
on the tree
remind me of the
last time.
the time is not here
yet because
they’re not.
but there must be
at least one, because it wasn’t
the vision of
them that brought me here.
it was the smell.
it’s there, but it’s
not as strong as it will
be in a few weeks.
down the stairs,
floating across the lawn,
the bottoms of my shoes
knocking the evening dew
from the
blades of grass.
soon,
below the tree,
my movement awakening
the light above,
diffused through the leaves,
slowly getting brighter.
my arms up,
one hand pulling the branch
lower, the other
hand reaching for
the one that’s
a little too high.
with some effort,
it was in
my hand. the
branch snapped back,
waving me away.
scratching the rind,
i inhaled…
yes, spring in
los angeles, well above
freezing, exhaling,
it seems impossible that
i could see my breath,
but i swear to you
that i did.
11 Comments
It is so hard when the anniversary of someones death comes up. My father died in April of 1992. And this time of year is so hard. I still cannot stand the smell of Easter Lilies. The funeral was surrouned with them. I give you such credit for what you are going through and what you do everyday as a single father. Our daughters are the same age. The thought if losing my husband is more than I can bear. I’m so happy you found someone. You look amazing together. Good luck these next couple of weeks – I know they will be rough on you.
beautiful matt. Hugs to you & maddy.
Love these Easter Eggs Matt. Beautifully written. I compelely agree that a smell or a song can bring to back to a moment like it just happened. I will be thinking of you this month. Hold Maddy close.
I’ve been thinking about you and Maddy a lot, maybe because March is here; I can only imagine how hard this is for you. I wish this was all a bad dream and that one day you will wake up and it will all be the way it was before that day, but that’s all I can do, and I know it is not enough. Keep up the good work, you are a hero to me and to many others, we are all thinking of you.((Hugs))
There is nothing like a scent to bring back powerful memories. Give Maddy a kiss from all of us and know that you are held gently in many hearts.
Pick a flower, hold a memory! Beautiful.
How lucky you are to have loved and been loved by Liz. Gently hold onto these memories as your heart opens to add new ones.
Beautifully written. I can’t even imagine your feelings. It’s my worst nightmare. Just cherish the moments you had with Liz, and all of the new ones you will be making with Maddy.
The scent of spring…. reawakening. It’s inspiring how conscious you are. I’m learning from your example and observing more, more deeply.
Absolutely beautiful Matt! Your writing and your ability to strike emotions with your words is amazing!
Hold Maddie close when the going gets rough, you’re doing so well!
My mom passed away just before Thanksgiving when I was 18. Since then I cannot tolerate the smell of stuffing. Thankfully my love of mashed potatoes and gravy lives on. Apparently gluttony trumps grief…sometimes. Not that I’m suggesting you’re a glutton…or that there is anything wrong with that. This comment has taken a weird turn. I’d like to wrap this up with something witty and uplifting but now I’ve screwed any chances of that, so I’ll just say thanks again for sharing pieces of your life with us internet weirdos.