Ah yes, uncertainty. It seems it’s only human to desire the known and the sure. But that would be just too easy now wouldn’t it? And probably exceedingly boring. That said, I could use a little tedium right about now. I’m so used to the humdrum of my day to day life that all this excitement threatens to lead to some sort of radical action on my part, like baking or getting dressed.

We’re all over the map these days—one minute it’s Switzerland at all costs, the next minute it’s Canada or bust! There’s even been a brief, and I mean brief, consideration of a sojourn to the US of A. If Hilary Clinton calls looking for a personal therapist, I’ll put it back on the table. Otherwise, the land of the free will be free of me.

It seems the only certainty chez nous is a lack of certainty, but who the hell cares I say. No matter what kind of chaos life conjures up, there is one thing you can always count on: the passage of time. The sun rises and sets without care of what happens to be going on in my little life.

Yesterday, I took a walk along the shores on Lake Geneva—warm sun shining in a brilliant blue sky, kids running and jumping the way they do, young Swissy chic mothers pushing prams along the water, city workers trimming trees and hedges, there was even a sailboat gliding past the snow capped mountains. And then I saw it: a collection of rosebushes with their swollen buds poised to burst forth at Mother Nature’s signal. In February! Okay, the last day of February, but still.

I stopped to marvel at them and it was then I caught a faint whiff of something. The breeze that brought the smell was crisp, but there was no mistaking it: spring. The forecast now shows double digits and I have to say this first sensation of the coming season is, in this shrinky gal’s humble opinion, a reason for living.

Of course by the mere mention of my favourite season I may precipitate unprecedented precipitation. You watch, the minute this post hits the Internet, the entire region will fall in the grips of a raging blizzard. Then again, likely not. One can only assume that my power in the universe is limited (no need to mention that to Neil).

As I work to remain positive about what lies ahead, I think maybe my particular connections to the signs of spring this year are less about certainty and more about hope. Hope that this next stage is as joyful as the last, hope that Neil and I won’t kill each other as we reach the necessary consensus, and most importantly, hope that I’ll finally, finally get a decent haircut. Priorities, my friends, priorities.

 

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