This morning the trees have been bursting through their buds, green leaves popping up everywhere. The grass is an emerald green carpet, bringing memories of Ireland to mind. The birds have combined their songs for a continuous chorus.
It’s eighty degrees. In March. And I am outside writing. In Chicago. It is either paradise, or a sign that the end of the world is near. Either way, I am taking advantage of it. I’ve been out walking with my puppy, Molly. Showing her all the signs of spring. We got her on Christmas Eve, and there was very little outdoor walking happening when the snow was higher than her tiny little head.
We are making up for it now. We stop and chat with the neighbors, the ones who have lived here the same twenty years that I have, yet haven’t spoken to since the last autumn fire pits were covered for the season. We all look different. Some, like myself, with a little more winter padding to walk off, others, decked out in their gleaming new shoes and shorts, ready to train for that next race. Some are taking advantage of early gardening. We meet in the front of the yards, in front of careless winter debris, scattered brown leaves and the remnants of a winter that gave up shockingly soon.
And we thank God for the weather together.
I am outside. I feel alive. I feel chatty and friendly and the breath of spring hums energetically through my veins.
A sharp contrast to the many hours piled up inside, as I worked, alone, in front of the computer screen, the sound of my clickety keyboards the only conversation all day.
It dawns on me that I have been hiding. Burrowing like a winter bear, alone in my cave with only Facebook as a companion.
Yes, I get points for venturing out, applying myself to go to conferences, train clients, share lunches. But then back I went, to the every day safety of my winter cave—the office.
Several years ago, when training new clients, I used to say, “If you are sitting at your desk, you are not marketing. You are not selling, you are not building relationships.” There was no Facebook then, no slippery seduction of twitter to lure us into thinking we were making friends. There was only written mail. And phones.
And Faces.
Face to face friendships, where you saw the glimmer of the eye, felt the energy radiating off of an exciting conversation, basked in the warmth of a goodbye hug. Until you met up again.
It’s spring time. The winter has slipped away without a fight and once again, I am out of my cave, meeting and greeting, chatting and hugging, taking walks, saying hello.
It’s time to remember how to talk to people Face to Face. Eye to Eye. Hand to hand.
It feels great to be out of the cave.
