I Missed the Robins
"March is a metaphor."
"I thought March was a month."
"March is a metaphor to me."
"How so?"
"It's the last month of Winter before our days transfer to Spring. Depending on the Earth's weather patterns or where you are in it, the days can still seem bitter cold like the rest of Winter. But you know that warm mornings and breezy nights are ahead. So there is that comfort in knowing that this is March. And even here, we still have snow lacing the ground and a chill in the air, but there are robins scattering the skies and branches. Robins come as Spring comes. And I love robins, so as the March approaches I grow with anticipation to lay my eyes upon the red breasted birds of Spring. So I mean, I guess that's what I'm getting at, ya know?"
"Uh, you missed the robins?"
"No. March is a metaphor. Life is March. Meaning that things will get better. When you feel the bitter cold hands of depression clutch your throat almost suffocating you in their grasp, remember that the warm hands of a comforting stranger will one day pull them off. And gradually as you catch your breath the oxygen will flow into your lung more freely and you'll remember that breathing wasn't always a challenge."
"Why does everything that comes out of your mouth have this sense of beautiful complexity?"
After a long pause she spoke once again, "Nevermind."
"Nevermind what?"
"I just missed the robins."
"I thought March was a month."
"March is a metaphor to me."
"How so?"
"It's the last month of Winter before our days transfer to Spring. Depending on the Earth's weather patterns or where you are in it, the days can still seem bitter cold like the rest of Winter. But you know that warm mornings and breezy nights are ahead. So there is that comfort in knowing that this is March. And even here, we still have snow lacing the ground and a chill in the air, but there are robins scattering the skies and branches. Robins come as Spring comes. And I love robins, so as the March approaches I grow with anticipation to lay my eyes upon the red breasted birds of Spring. So I mean, I guess that's what I'm getting at, ya know?"
"Uh, you missed the robins?"
"No. March is a metaphor. Life is March. Meaning that things will get better. When you feel the bitter cold hands of depression clutch your throat almost suffocating you in their grasp, remember that the warm hands of a comforting stranger will one day pull them off. And gradually as you catch your breath the oxygen will flow into your lung more freely and you'll remember that breathing wasn't always a challenge."
"Why does everything that comes out of your mouth have this sense of beautiful complexity?"
After a long pause she spoke once again, "Nevermind."
"Nevermind what?"
"I just missed the robins."