Springtime

I want it

Spring light surrounding my friends in Winston-Salem

It is winter, but I am thinking of spring.

I know it is winter because I am standing in the shower watching my dark brown hair tangle itself around my fingers, lace over my pointer and under my middle finger like a sewing pattern. The strands wind around and slide down the length of my fingers, gathering with water droplets at my fingertips. My hair spirals slowly toward the tile, collecting at the drain.

Since I became concerned about the amount of hair I shed when I was young, my mom has always insisted that hair falls out when the seasons change. Today, my hair is falling out and it’s clogging my shower drain and so I know it is winter. I leave the apartment in layers and leave the office in darkness. My music is a little more mellow and when I accidentally touch the radiator in my bedroom, I’m burned. It is winter.

I am standing here thinking of last spring. Because it was warmer -- the sunshine, the full trees. Sitting on the porch until late, opening the windows on Sunday mornings.

Do you know the feeling of that first real day of spring? When everything is changing -- rain shows on the forecast, the trees are budding, time will move forward, you must rotate your closet, birds wake you in the morning? But also when you linger outside a little more, take the longer route home? When everything feels technicolor? The flowers, a brighter shade of pink. The sky, a brighter shade of blue. When you can change into a t-shirt and feel the sun, a little stronger than normal, kiss your skin? I am thinking of that day.

2025 felt a lot like spring to me. A year -- like the season -- of change.

I spent its first day at home before returning south for the last semester of college. I can’t think of something I want more than to watch the semester back, reliving every moment. There were movie nights and snow days, concerts and nights in the yard by the fire. Sweaty afternoons on the pickleball courts, long mornings in coffee shops writing my thesis. The photo booth at Dive Bar, dancing at Burke St, cosmos at Sofa Bar. Visits from family and friends. Nights when our couch had not a seat to spare and walks through Reynolda. Hikes at Hanging Rock, concerts with friends. Cross country skiing and line dancing. Evenings with bands at the frats and chill nights with a guitar and some friends. Making dinner while the light came in through that side window, celebrating my birthday.

There were happy endings -- that perfect last day of school that ended with Kate crying in my car (for good reason), signing the bell tower which was better because Charlotte could come, graduation pictures when Katy and I drank our whole bottle of champagne accidentally, the camp programming we created for our week off, a long weekend in Charleston when Jenna and I jumped in the water. And there were tears -- a lot of tears -- from Stella on our couch and from me just about everywhere. There were too many goodbyes. There was that last early morning all together and throwing our caps in the air and the horrible drive home that next morning. The goodbyes, like I was told, would end up becoming “see you laters” but I didn’t know it yet.

Summer brought a trip to Italy and to the French Riviera. Beach days in my favorite place. A revolving door of family and friends. Reunions. It brought my first real job at the company I wanted to be at, an apartment with the friend I wanted to live with, and a move to the city I wanted to be in. Fall was reconnecting with childhood friends and meeting new ones, spending every waking moment with Amelia and Emily, figuring out my routine, decorating and hosting, finding my regular spots and learning that my train runs express way too often. It brought new traditions and Tuesday nights with friends, Amtrak rides to see my parents, and walks in the park.

It’s winter now. The snow blankets the stoop and icicles hang off the fire escape. I wonder how many trips I’ll take this year and how much I’ll miss the city when I’m somewhere new. How often I’ll wish I was home and how much I’ll miss my friends. How late I’ll work on busy weeks and how many weekends I’ll have to check my email. How often I’ll get to the beach. How cold it is to walk from the train to the office and how my fingers feel when I get inside.

But I’m thinking of spring. Of change and joy. Of how springtime is hard to rival, and how last year will be hard to beat. But spring comes again as it always does -- in just a few weeks it will be light until late. Just how I like it. I’ll feel unbridled without the weight of my wool coat hanging off my bones, and the warm sun will feel like relief when it hits my face.

___

My favorite Substack for years has been Chloe in Letters. In her Yearbook published last month, she listed things she wants in the new year. I don’t really believe in “resolutions” but I find it easy to make a list of goals for the year. I liked this format and so here’s what I wrote in my notebook after reading hers:

I want to wake up just one day this whole year and not reach for my phone right away. Then I want to stare at the ceiling a little bit

I want my hair to grow out in the way I’ve wanted

I want to stop looking at my legs in the mirror so much

I want to copy my favorite lines and poems into my notebook more. Then I want to memorize them. I used to be better at this than I am now. Even right now I can’t remember the second line to O’Hara’s “Having a Coke With You” which to me is the best poem in the whole world and therefore I should know its second line

I want to read books that I haven’t read yet that I must: Wuthering Heights, The Catcher in the Rye, Beloved, the rest of The Neapolitan Quartet

I want to write more. I say this every year

I want to spend less time in my head

I want to say exactly how I feel right in the moment I feel it. Cut the time between feeling and expressing. Cut the thinking

I want to listen to my playlist that reminds me of waking up on Cloverly Lane on a Sunday morning every Sunday morning while I make my bed and get ready for the day

I want to swim in the ocean as much as I can

I want to see the sunrise. I seek the sunset but never the sunrise. I want to do that this year

I want to walk a lot, like last year

I want to listen to more classical music while I’m walking

I want to listen to more Nina Simone while I’m doing everything

I want to ask my parents more questions about their lives and write down what they say, or at least record it to listen to later

I want to talk to my brothers more

I want to eat all of my favorite foods, especially pasta. A lot of pasta. And I want to cook things the way my dad does

I want to say that I want to care a little less about a lot of things, but the more I think about caring less, the more I want to be a person who cares more. Even if sometimes it’s too much

I want just one time for something to happen and for me to act exactly how I want to. Impulsively even. No asking friends for opinions

I want to live by what Didion said -- when asked why she uses her good silver every day, she replies “every day is all there is”

I want to host more parties

I want to listen to more albums front to back

I want to take a dance class just to remember how that felt and get my Spanish back

I want to never close my eyes at night knowing that I hadn’t said I love you to my best friends. One of my favorite parts of life is that so many of us have been in the middle of a conversation for many years

I want to make a habit of my mornings. My mornings are mostly free of working and so I want to rise early, move slow, move my body, make breakfast, read, write, walk to the train

I want to travel. I want to go back to LA (I miss it), to a new country in Europe (Spain or Denmark), and to a state I’ve never been (Oregon or Washington)

I want to explore the city more. I have barely scratched the surface. It makes me nervous in the same way not being able to listen to every song or read every book before I die makes me nervous. I want to go to more museums, try all the restaurants on my list, wander around new neighborhoods alone sometimes and with friends most of the time, take a new subway line, walk from the tip of the island to the top of Manhattan, lay in parks when the sun comes out again, etc.

I want to embrace the year of the horse: running toward energy, freedom, movement, and enthusiasm like Instagram has told me

I hope I’ll write again soon and maybe I’ll have made some progress on the above. Thanks for being here

Sydney xx