March 13, 2008

• "It's spring fever. That is what the name of it is.
  And
  when you've got it, you want — oh, you don't
  quite know what it is you
  do want, but it just fairly
  makes your heart ache, you want it so!"
  

  Mark Twain
  

  
  

  

  
  Sunshine
  is pouring through the newsroom's glass door, the temperatures have
  warmed up into the 60s, the sky is as blue as a little boy's eyes, and
  I feel a case of spring fever coming on.
  When my older son Alex was
  about three, he came up to me one day with a worried look on his little
  face, and said, "Mama, I want...I want....I want...." Then he looked at
  me with big eyes and pleaded, "Mama — tell me what I want!"
  Spring fever. A longing in your heart you can't quite understand.
  I've
  come down with a case of it almost every spring I can remember. A sort
  of nameless yearning, when the weather starts to change, the days get
  longer, the sunshine warmer. When the flowers just barely begin to peep
  out. A piercing wistfulness.
  Even as I rejoice in the beauty around me, I still want....something!
   I
  want....I want to see my dear ones I haven't seen in a long time. I
  want to go to Boulder to see  Alex, whom I haven't seen for eight
  months now. That's too long for this mother — any mother — to go
  without seeing her child's face. I want to see where he lives, and
  where he works, and explore his new Rocky Mountains with him.
  I want
  to go to Alexandria, Virginia, to see my sister Cissy, whom I haven't
  seen since Mama died last April. I want to sit out in her beautiful
  yard surrounded by blooming wisteria and dogwood, and talk and talk and
  talk from our hearts.
  I want to go to Chicago and see my baby brother, and listen to him tell funny stories in our Daddy's voice.
  I
  want to go to Sarasota and walk for miles down the beach at Siesta Key
  with my two little sisters, and laugh and talk and watch the tropical
  sunshine fracture into a million jewels on the blue water.
  I want to
  go to my nephew Ben’s Ratatouille birthday party, and watch him cooking
  in his play kitchen in his miniature chef’s hat.
  I want to go back
  to my old Mississippi hometown and sit in rocking chairs on
  magnolia-shaded front porches and drink coffee with the oldest friends
  of my life. I want to visit with my dear friend Pooh on the porch of
  her house at Golden Pond. I want to walk through the shady streets with
  my friend Marion, both of us talking non-stop the whole way. I want to
  go see my old friend Vicky's new twin babies and kiss their sweet
  little faces. I want to go to my neighbor Tina's house and watch her
  little boys play with trucks in the backyard. I want to go to our
  19th-century white-frame Catholic church and kneel with my dear friends
  in the cool silence there. I want to sit in Buzzy and Cyndy's house and
  reminisce about the old days when we were young together. I want to go
  out in the country and drink coffee with my cousin Mary Ann and talk
  about our Mamas, who are both spending their first spring in Heaven. I
  want to visit the old cemeteries where almost all the names are
  familiar.
  I want to go to Jackson and see Barbara, my cousin,
  friend, and most important mentor, who’s fighting a brave battle
  against cancer and still changing people’s lives with her valiant faith.
  I
  want to drive down to Louisiana and sit on my cousin Beau's front porch
  with him, and listen to him pick his guitar, and pet his golden dog and
  talk about when we were kids together.
  I want....I want to visit with my dear ones who have already crossed the River.
  I want to sail on the Gulf of Mexico with my Daddy at the helm of his beloved Moonraker again, and trim the jib for him.
  I want to tell funny stories to my Mama and hear her laugh, and see her smile the sweetest smile in the whole world.
  I
  want to walk through my grandmother Poppy's yard in the springtime with
  her and admire her beautiful flowers, and I want to sit around
  Grandmarie's marble-topped table in Gulfport again and eat boiled
  shrimp.
  I want to sit in the back of my Aunt Mimi's dress shop and listen to her good advice.
  I
  want to sit in Poppy’s kitchen and eat Mary Joiner's chicken and
  dumplin's and custard pie, and hear Mary call me “Baby” in her rich
  voice.
  I want to go back in time and rock my own little boys again,
  and hold them in my lap and read them stories, and hear their sweet
  little voices talking to me.
  "It just fairly makes your heart ache, you want it so!"
  
  By Celia DeWoody
  Copyright Harrison Daily Times 2008
  Harrison, Arkansas
  
  

  • 10:32 pm
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