Quitting a job always seems to plunge me into an existential crisis. Who am I? Why am I here? What is my purpose, my “personal legend”? Why is there not more chocolate ice cream in my life??

I must be getting practiced, because these crises feel less and less unnerving.

It snowed yesterday. On May 19. Snow. No one was pleased. I watched disheveled birds as they ruffled their feathers against the cold wind and stared at me through the patio glass with eyes of scorn.

Today, the sun is sparkling off the flowage down the road from my childhood home, and as I stroll along the shoulder I spot swallows, blackbirds, orioles, sparrows, chickadees, and eagles reeling and spinning with delight. Spring is here, and all are rejoicing.

I picked a dandelion and set it to float on the flooded creek, watching it float away to cling to a grass tussock briefly before being dislodged and floating on.

Back to my existential crisis.

I see myself in that dandelion. Cheery face, some healthy bitterness down near the roots, ubiquitous in its season. Choiceably uprooted and set sail, pausing briefly at one home, then the next; off to adventure, removed from its roots, though never seemingly losing its bright cheer.

My last uprooting left a deeper scar than even I’d anticipated. I’ve pined for the friendships that grew in the past year in northern Wisconsin. But the water is moving, and I’m along for the ride.

My mom is a pretty wise lady. She has reminded me numerous times that life has seasons – seasons of life, of joy, of death, of growth. Spring, in particular, is a time of growth. Have you ever looked at a growing seed? It does not look comfortable. Plunged into a dark, soggy, dirty hole, it’s stretched and crushed and swollen until BAM – it ruptures. Something deep inside – tiny, imperceptible, unnoticed – shoved its way out to split the whole thing wide open. I can’t imagine that the seed feels this is a good thing (*when I’m having an existential crisis, all things have feelings). Yet, we all know the rest of the story. That seed gives way to a sprout, a stalk, a trunk, a tree, which then spawns a forest.

It snowed yesterday. In late May. And today, I picked dandelions.

May sure does stretch us.

Let it be May. 🌱