There is a sorrow that comes in spring time that is out of place in my world. It is a time of excitement and warmth, of rebirth and newness and yet I feel so homesick for something that I can not find nor explain. It is something that feels so deeply a part of me that I should somehow know what it I am looking for, mourning over and seeking to find. 

This emptiness calls to old memories stored deep within me and I wrap them around myself like a security blanket that still holds the scent of people and places so far from the present. Some memories hold no faces or specific situations, but rather emotions and auras of times past. They whisper to me and I long for places and times I rarely find myself thinking about. 

In spring I find I tend to curl up inside of myself for awhile and seek to slip awake to be alone with my thoughts. It is not a  time of hopelessness and deep sadness but a time of detached melancholy that does not over take nor diminish my enthusiasm for life. In the spring something calls to me and I have no choice to seek whatever it is. There is a loneliness within it, but one that does not cause me to feel without love and support. 

I feel like I am trying to catch my shadow, but have never seen what it looks like. I can grasp at it but never catch it. I know that in time this season will end and the longing will again lay dormant inside of me again but for now I long to climb inside memories of long late night spring walks, lazy days laying in the warm summer sun and evenings around cozy fires that I wished would never end. 

Sometimes I feel like I dropped pieces of myself along the roadside when I wasn't paying attention and if I could just find the way back I could pick them up and begin to feel whole again.