You're such a flirt, Illinois. After weeks of surly, you get all girly. You put on your magnolia party dress and you think we'll forget about you not calling all March. Well, I've got one word for you. Narcissus.
I know you. You do this every spring. You give us months of cold indifference, weeks of harsh, then you go all soft and sweet and think we'll fall for you all over again. You think we'll ooo and ahh at your brilliant tulips and breathe in the smell of your hyacinths and fall in love with you all over again. And you know what? You're right.
1 comment:
I just finished reading The Secret Life of Bees and went back to highlight Monk's beautiful metaphors. (I failed Metaphors 101.) I wish I had a highlighter for this post — such perfect imagery!
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