"April is the cruelest month." -T.S. Eliot

Adam and I awoke to a foreign feeling...a feeling so strange that we couldn’t quite place its origin. 

Had we felt it before? Yes, but where? Certainly not in the cheerless gloom that shrouds our beautiful city this time of year. 

And then it came to us: Spring!

Right now it is 75 degrees and sunny--a marvel if one considers that until today, it seemed that spring was a thing of the past. A memory caught in a crumpled photograph of my siblings and me in our Easter attire--holding baskets as big as our bodies, smiling grandly at the prospect of chocolate bunny ears after the obligation of church. My sisters and I are in little spring dresses and shiny patent leather sandals. In the background, daffodils trumpet their yellowy cheer while tulips lean lazily in their beds.

Ah, spring...

Like beauty, like love, it will wane.

“O, how this spring of love resembleth

The uncertain glory of an April day,

Which now shows all the beauty of the sun,

And by and by a cloud takes all away!”

                             -William Shakespeare,

                               The Two Gentleman of Verona