March roaring all last weekend. Cloudy, bare-branched days and frenzied, biting wind.
Eating lunch outside, on a dry lawn, squinting the entire time.
Corners of eyes and corners of mouth both crinkling from the sun.
Smelling the wet beneath the grass.
Noticing several attractive guys pass my lunch spot—and getting a second (actually third) look from one particularly handsome man with dark hair, dark eyes, a little swagger in his smile and a trim-fitting sports coat.
Walking outside jacketless. In ballet flats.
T-shirts, capris, sandals everywhere.
Seeing one girl in short shorts and UGGs.
Feeling the sun so soft and warm on my shoulders as I walk from one campus building to the next—even though it's only 45 degrees.
Driving for 40 full minutes with my hair flying, my windows down and my brother's aviators on.
Ending the drive windblown and sun-reddened.
The sky expands wide and blue and open. The mountains are gorgeous, all different shades of brown and purple and blue at the bottoms and snow at the peaks. The branches...as yet bare. The air still thin and cool.
But the sun is out.
School will be out too, and I won't have to write such posts from the library in between assignments.