Juxtapose

It is seriously, like, sixty-five degrees out or something.

I am barefoot and in scrubs the color of green grass and there is sun and breeze whooshing through my house, sweeping out the stale, depressing winter air that's filled it all these dreadfully dark months. I'm ready to run and swing on the swings at the park and camp and take evening walks again. My heart is light. I feel like air. Springtime is here.