i can see where my friend is coming from. the season carries with it a colorful romanticism that draws people together. it's similar to the christmas season actually. during the holiday season everyone's spirits seem be injected by an i.v. of sentimentality. slipping on the icy city sidewalks fails miserably to taint the white blankety goodness of your day. if it were march and you were to get your feet caught up in the evidence of sub-zero rain, you'd curse the gods who created the forsaken land in which you dwell. but it's not march, it's christmas; so instead you send yourself sliding down the entirety of the urban mountain and drop a few coins in the army's red bucket of salvation all the while whistling melodies of silver bells. and so, introspectively i crawled in search of the hidden secrets that only seem to surface with the kaleidoscope of maple leaves.
with a headlamp securely fastened and a chisel to carve through the cobwebs that buried the intimacies of my heart, i went looking within my soul. this search of mine had intertwined in it's purpose, a well defined hope; and that hope was that i too may behold the beautiful desire to fall in love, but with the surprising twist that it be wrapped safely secured for another season. drawing up the sharpened pick i cracked through the first layer of the cupid's box of flirty truffles. to my utter confusion, the very first jewel i found was a sloppy melted pile of mystery confections. i couldn't discern it's shape, it's form, or the character of the thing; but i could tell that nailed beside it was a plaque that appeared to be the potential title of its name. however the letters i could not read.
to understand this mess i would have to stand in the presence of the great unknown, and quite frankly i didn't have that kind of time - i brushed the dust off the glowing lamp atop my head and trekked further. there were cherry-filled cordials that beckoned my attention by oozing charmful whispers, but i didn't bother, once the cherry spills out all that remains is a slimy empty shell. a little further i came across chocolate drenched raisins rampantly kicking like popping corn kernels, but i'm not interested in the temporary satisfaction of raisins. after this i was plowed over by the invading presence of chocolate turtles. i felt sick just looking at them so i wasted no time over their meaningless offerings. finally, after winnowing through most of cupid's flowery arrows i came to something familiar, something known. slowing my pace and focusing my gaze what i felt was the same mysterious configuration i had tasted in the beginning of my journey. only this time there was something subtly different. the overall structure didn't change, the appearance was untouched, and the blushing intrigue i received upon our initial introduction remained. now squinting and leaning in for a closer look, the difference was disclosed! the title plaque - i could read it! in humble letters this mound of secrecy spelled its autograph - "tomorrow". and with quiet satisfaction i bowed at its base and delightfully acknowledged the identity of the confection - which i am certain, by the way, is filled with peanut buttery deliciousness.
the fact of the matter is i am not ready for love. aside from the one incredibly handsome regular that allures my attention each morning at caribou, my vision is fixed on the season of education i am in and the path of spiritual formation i am walking. "tomorrow" is precisely what i was hoping i would discover. "tomorrow" is what i need. and with the promise of "tomorrow" i walk out the door and kick up the freshly fallen leaves that carpet my doorstep, and with a smile across my face i enter into the today with a rich contentment and delight in the adventures that are bestowed upon the lives of the independents.