I can feel it. I can smell it. I can see it slowly emerging.
I’m on the threshold. I’m waiting and anticipating. I’m eager and hopeful. I stand at the doorway, the front entrance to my cozy nest of a home, and when I open the door to the outside, it’s true that chilly air rushes in to envelop me, yet still it is there. There’s a hint of it, a whisper, a trace.
Yes, it’s a starting point. A point that promises me that something will happen, something will take place, something will transpire. And something will change.
I stand at this threshold. The door is opening although it seems like it is doing so in the slowest way possible. But each day, despite the temperatures below usual, the rainy and overcast skies devoid of sun, I know it is coming.
My threshold for waiting might be nearing an end but I know I’m impatient. I don’t like to wait. I don’t like to wait too long. And it’s been a long, long waiting period and I’m so willing for change.
So I bravely step over the doorsill onto my front porch. And I pause because I sense it is so near. I inhale and breathe in the scent of it. It’s almost here, yes it’s almost here!
And as I step off the porch with the white railing onto the firm footing of the concrete sidewalk, my hope springs forth. I venture off the walkway into the soft and rain saturated ground, sinking just a little which prompts me to look down at my feet. A few slivers of green can be seen pushing their way through the lifeless-looking dullness of our yard. Newly rejuvenated grass is awakening from its dormant season – that long, long cold winter.
I tentatively take a few more steps, peeking around the shrubbery, scanning the woody brown mulch and almost holding my breath. And then I spy it! It’s here! A harbinger of spring!
The very first brilliant sunshine-colored crocus has bloomed in all its glory. And suddenly, it doesn’t matter that I’m shivering just a little without my jacket. It doesn’t matter that the sunshine isn’t quite as strong and plentiful as I’d like it to be.
What matters is I’ve stepped over the threshold from winter to spring. This little cheerful sign warms my heart with promises of good things to come. And as my eyes take in that little patch of ground, I spy more are popping up to join the party as well. Soon the white, dark purple, and light purple ones will join that little yellow flower in a flourish of color amidst the monotony of bleakness that has held me in its grip for so long.
And it occurs to me that it’s time I step over yet another threshold as well. I’ve been as dormant as my surroundings since I lost my job and along with it, my bearings, back in the fall. That event sent me into a tizzy at first and then into retreat. I rested all winter under a blanket of latent sorrow just as cold and unforgiving as the snow that covered our yard for months.
But it’s time to throw off the cover, time to move on, time for the promise of hope and renewal. It’s time to step over the threshold into something new. It’s time for spring – in more ways than one!
There must be potential for me on the horizon and this week’s photo challenge – threshold – reminds me of that. So I’m stepping over the threshold with a little yellow blossom leading the way. I don’t know where the path will lead me yet but I will stop and smell the flowers along the way and capture what I can with my trusty camera at my side.
“Never have I found the limits of the photographic potential. Every horizon, upon being reached, reveals another beckoning in the distance. Always, I am on the threshold.” ~ W. Eugene Smith, photographer