An open letter

Dear March,

So, you're back. You unpredictably cruel month, you.

You dangle the promise of spring before our hungry, winter-weary eyes with your thaws and balmy winds. And then you mock our need for your kindness with unexpected winter storms.

You're a sonofabitch.

I used to love you. I did. I loved the smell of your air, rich with earthy dampness. I loved your melting, dirty snow running in rivers down the streets. I loved your rushing, swollen rivers straining at their banks. I used to breathe you in deeply, marvel at your promise, urge you on eagerly knowing the treasures you held in store.

I was one of your biggest supporters.

Until.

And now you are just something to be endured. You are April's ugly, mean-spirited neighbour. We can't avoid you, so we just smile through gritted teeth and wait you out, hoping you'll move but knowing you never will. You'll be here, year after year after year.

You are endless, March.

I don't have to like you anymore, but I won't let you beat me. I will stand up to your cruelty and replace it with kindness. I will take your gloom and throw light on it. I will bundle up against your chill and stay warm. All month long, you bastard.

I will meet you head on and win. Not because I don't have any choice - but because I have chosen to fight.

There's nothing more you can take from me, but even though I'm empty-handed and broken-hearted you still haven't won.

I just thought you should know that.

Until next year,

Kristin