A day early, I know, but I don’t blog on Saturday anymore as a rule and I couldn’t let the holiday slide by unobserved or opined upon.

When I was shopping at the Safeway on Wednesday, I couldn’t help but notice the veritable garden of blooms. balloons and stuffies that had sprung up in the floral department since my visit the week before. It spilled into the checkout lanes and encroached on produce. Because the day began “froggy”* and frigid, I had to whip out the camera and snap a few shots. It was like spring was on display like a weekend home show and I wanted to capture it and save it for the bleak winter days we still have to endure.

It’s not that bad of course. The days are longer. The sun is up before the school bus arrives and doesn’t set until nearly six in the evening, reminding me of the near white nights of June and July we will certainly enjoy. 

And the cold snaps are not as cold nor do they last as long. Winter is beginning its tug of war with Spring, and she will win as she always does.

I was reminded by a commenter this week that two years ago, I was falling in love – unbeknownst to just about everyone who knew me because there was so much more to it than simply falling in love. That is not something one does innocently a second time regardless of how the first love ended.

And why do we do it at all?

That’s a question that has come up too.

Why, even in the face of reality, do we bother?

I know for a number of years in my younger days, I didn’t. Bother that is. I simply went along with my business and interacted only as much as I was obligated to for purposes of making a living and maintaining family relations and existing friendships. 

I can’t say that life was better that way. The non-risking way. I wasn’t happier or safer. And so, eventually I bothered again with mixed results, but am I supposed to win every time? Or even at all? And is it really about winning? And is winning sailing through life without rippling the water or being caught in the wake of events? He who dies having gone through the least amount of trauma wins?

When I encounter people whose lives seem more charmed than my own, I tend to think of them as lucky. But are they, really? Because maybe I am the one who is really benefitting from this plane of existence we call life.

As Rob and I were hanging up from our morning phone call, we exchanged “I love you’s” as we normally do and he added after mine,

“And that’s why we bother.”

We bother because we love our partners, our parents, our children, our friends, our pets, our siblings and their children. We love. Therefore, we bother. Even when it hurts and knowing that it will possibly hurt again. 

*When BabyD was little, she would say “frog” instead of “fog”. “Look Mama, it’s very froggy out today.” like the weather was a bit hoarse or something.