I wait all year to see it: the bright translucent green of new maple leaves.
I looked out the window on Thursday afternoon, and, just like that, I saw it. Not the leaves, not yet, but the color.
Possibility.
New maple leaves are the color of possibility.
I wasn’t here last year when the leaves came out; by the time I came back, spring had deepened into early summer.
Disorienting, being here, in spring, with the color of new maple leaves and flowering trees all around.
What I don’t admit, even to myself sometimes, is that the joy of seeing my favorite color also brings sadness, a hollowing. Perhaps the sadness comes with knowing that possibility ends. We make choices, the world gets smaller again.
Still. So much color. So much hope. So much possibility.
At least for now.
