The In Between
by matt werbach
I awake some mornings thinking spring has already come. It’s the nature of the magazine business that keeps me constantly looking forward, and I have to remind myself to live in the moment. I often erase or delete the dates I just wrote when I realize I’m living a month or two ahead of myself. Here we are in February and we’re getting ready to print the Spring Issue. All the while I’m lining up the stories and photographs for the Summer Issue. From where I sit in the office, Mount Adams remains enveloped in winter clouds, the river is as still as can be and temps haven’t topped 50 in a few days, but my mind is on wildflowers, spring showers and the quickly building buzz of many residents returning home from their winter escapes while visitors show up for their summer adventures. While the sound of studded tires on cold, bare pavement still echoes around me, my thoughts already have me heading up Dog Mountain to take in this year’s new blanket of wild, colorful flora.
I look forward to a time that may never come, when my mind and my body are experiencing the same things. As soon as spring hits, I’ll be on to summer or fall, and before I know it, the eastern winds will be bringing freezing temps back to our communities. I can almost hear the motherly advice to “live for today,” as my mind pushes forward to days and months not yet unveiled.
This time of year a forward way of thinking doesn’t seem to hurt. It acts as a coping mechanism that pushes those wintery chills and cloudier skies away from my consciousness. It leaves me asking myself, “Why live in this moment when the next holds so much promise?” February is a month for love and a month to remember the contributions, struggles and successes of America’s black community. Somehow it’s also an in between month—a time when the snow and the dropping mercury of December and January begin to take on their role as memories rather than realities; while March, not yet here, starts to show signs of the relief and rebirth it holds within its lengthening days.
I tend to be struck each month by how quickly the last has passed. It seems that just hours ago I was writing of the ambition and hope 2010 will bring. I’m certain that by the time February 28th roles around, I’ll be taken aback by the sudden birth of spring. So there it is, plain and simple, the ongoing battle of embracing today while still preparing for tomorrow. There is virtue to both, but the endurance necessary for winter makes it hard not to appreciate the arrival of spring. There’s a balance to the changing of seasons that I’ve come to appreciate greatly over the years, yet since I look ahead so often, there’s also an anticlimactic feeling once the new season is finally born. I remind myself time and time again that best way for me to live is to find the enjoyment and beauty of each season because they are, after all, inevitable.
I won’t look past this February. It will hold the first and only Valentine’s Day that I’ll spend with my fiancé. Before the next one, we will be husband and wife. It also marks a time for me to celebrate one of my favorite subjects, the literary and historic contributions of black Americans. I think this time around I’ll re-read Ellison’s Invisible Man in honor of the posthumous publication of its sequel. Still, through these magic moments, the pulsing will continue in the back of my mind, “it’s almost here, it’s almost spring, you’ve almost made it.”
In the coming weeks, the trails on which I hike or run will begin to fill with the rhythmic thumping of hundreds more feet. I’ll wave and smile, and I’ll be excited to see more traffic sharing in the adventure. But it’s only a matter of time before I long for a quieter path. In late February I’ll make a trip out to Dog Mountain or over to the Rowena Crest to get a glimpse of the early arriving wildflowers. But by the time everything is in full-bloom there will be others to compete with as we snap pictures and spread out picnic lunches. Perhaps that’s where the beauty of late winter and early spring—the beauty of February—really sits. It’s the solitude that’s so hard to find in spring, combined with the beauty that winter often clouds over. It may not seem like it now, but I keep telling myself that by the time March is here I’ll miss the quiet contemplation that winter allows. So maybe February isn’t so much of an in between month, but rather a month to prepare and a month to reflect. It’s a time when living in the now means taking a few moments each day to look back and a few to glance forward, because before long, tomorrow will be here and we’ll all be missing yesterday.
One Response to “The In Between”
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Lynne Netschke says:
I always enjoy your view of the moment. This time of year it is a great treat to get lost in looking ahead, but I agree, the peace and quiet of today are things we need to grasp, while we have the chance.
