looking past.

Looking back on my previous years gives me so much to be thankful for in the present. There were so many off seasons, like when it's supposed to be spring but winter refuses to leave, and snow continues to fall with fervor in March.

I was riding my bicycle to my new home in the midst of a truly springlike season a few days ago and thankfulness struck me; I was reminded, with a chill, of the many winters passed.

Looking back is a funny thing. It's tainted, and often, the negative stands out so much more clearly than what was good. I remember a snow a few years ago at my parents' house. It's true country and trees take up most of the space in the yard. There was white snow covering bleak surfaces, white topped branches of leafless trees up against a gray sky; Walking outside felt like walking into a black and white photograph. I ventured off of the porch and into the yard, and there on the branch of a tree was the reddest red bird in the record of my memory. Each time I looked up into the otherwise blank canvas, my eyes went strait for it's crimson feathers. When I look back on my years passed, the bad stands out in my mind like the red red bird.

Yesterday was a day in stark contrast to the day I mentioned above. It's that time of year when winter is trying to make its way out, and the beautiful days are appreciated so much more because of the weather they follow. I had only been outside in the dewey morning, when the sun hadn't been out long enough to warm the day. I was stuck inside for a few hours, as the sun did its job, and when I opened the door for the first time, I was literally enveloped in its warmth. I felt it on my skin, I breathed it in, and I was reminded of the goodness from my past that I too often overlook.

The red bird that stood out to me from my day's black and white photograph was too picturesque to represent the less than ideal memories and seasons from my past. The bird was the color, joy and consistency, like the beautiful people coloring my memories, filling them with joy and being so very there, always and in all seasons. The beauty of spring - the budding dogwood in my front yard, the greening grass, and relentless presence of the redbirds - reminds to look past the clouds of disappointment from the previous years, and instead, at the lasting and abundant friendships perched atop my history's trees.