Recently I've been unwell, whatever that means. It's rained many days. Still the cherry blossoms came, heralding Spring, though much more modestly than in other years. The sun lit us, unobstructed for a few glorious days. The Cherry Blossom festival at UBC Nitobe Garden. Amy patiently plays model to my and Keith's cameras for yet another post-call afternoon. Every afternoon I can remember seems to be a post-call afternoon. Thankful I've spent most of them outside of the hospital.
How many times does the sky brighten, the earth warm, before Spring indeed comes. How many misgivings. Unmet expectations. And then the sakura, long a symbol of transient beauty. The comforting pain of tragically brief beauty lingers long after the wind and rain have left the branches bare of pink. And that is how I feel now. I know it's beautiful. But it hurts so much. I'm not where I should be. Something, and thus everything, is not right. The brink of a storm. The snow of petals with every howling gust tonight. I'm not where I should be.
I cannot see. I am lost.
I've been reading some. Encouraged and spurred on by my peers who have been doing the same. Never enough. Do not even imagine it.
Nitobe Garden UBC. Lighting of the lanterns for the Sakura Festival.
桜と雲
Awaiting the storm.
