Letters to

Letter to March

Dear March,

Although this is our nineteenth time meeting, you seem to be a month that tends to pass me by in a blink of an eye and leave without a trace. I don’t know why, but I always overlook you as if your time in my life has been insignificant. Oh March, in hindsight, I couldn’t have been more wrong.

As the daffodils begin to bloom and the sun starts to make a reappearance, you are finding new ways to influence my life and teach me one very valuable lesson.  Year after year, you somehow manage to create such beauty where there was once nothing. In fact, if February is the symbolic metaphor for loss, then you must be the symbol for new beginnings. You are the transition between winter and spring and without a doubt, your lesson reflects this.

This time last year was the beginning of something new for me, a fresh start; a new home. After months and months of waiting, you were the one to bring change to my life and I remember how relieved I was to finally be getting my life back, even if it was going to be completely different. Although I am still waiting for something incredible to happen, I know that good things take time. So I’m still hopeful and I’m still waiting.

However, this year you changed an aspect of my life that I didn’t even know needed changing. Out with the old in with the new, like the old saying goes. I’m thankful for that, March, as once again you have showed me that change can be a great thing because it allows us to explore possibilities. The wise Helen Keller once said that ‘When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but we often look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us.’ I couldn’t agree more; sometimes we focus so much on what we have lost that we don’t see any potential happiness. This is the lesson I have learned, March. It’s like a blessing in disguise. February provided the misfortune but you turned it around to result in something so much better, for that I am truly grateful. Just because something is over, doesn’t mean something beautiful can’t begin.

Always, Ashlea

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