I forgot what crocuses look like. I walked outside and saw these beautiful purple flowers. I noticed them. Bent over to study them. For a moment, I thought they were saffron bulbs that escaped a nearby pot.
It had not been a long winter, but I stayed inside so long that I forgot.
I went back in the house. Checked the news, sent a tweet, popped bread into the toaster. I cared for the children, pet the dog, pulled a pencil loose from the other dog's mouth, I had dinner made with rice from distant fields and fish from another shore. I tucked the children in, found those well-knit socks and the rain boots that offer little warmth--
I took these and made pilgrimage under the moon feeling unsettled.
What were those flowers?
"Aren't the crocuses beautiful?" asked my beloved.
Like lighting it hit me. I touched the petals remembering.
I felt the earth beneath me, remembering.
I looked around at the naked trees and felt crisp wind on my cheek, remembering.