March is here

Look. I wasn't sure I could make it through the winter either.  Generally, it almost always seems blocked in, closed down; excessive and needless.  And endless.  Somehow we're on the cusp of spring.  I don't expect leaves yet.  I know they'll come but I don't actually expect to see them for longer than I can fully grasp.  Sure as shit, though, there are not five foot piles of snow out there and it rained the better part of last night.  A sign of some change.  Another spring is coming.  I've been here in NYC for almost four years.  Four years.  It feels like four weeks.  I know it is healthy to embrace change.  I have to admit that I can actually envision not drinking not only until August, but beyond.  It seems manageable, I think, as long as I don't have to think too far out, to take in all of the real time reality of months down the road.  Time is like a walk.  The scenery changes slowly, enough to keep you motivated but not fast enough to shock, and then, after a gentle few thoughts pass through, you've come upon an entirely new community, different languages, customs, schools.  Consistency is valuable against this type of change, and sobriety does provide some--albeit at times gut-wrenching--consistency.  If only for the sake of knowing where your feet stand, and not letting the old brain blow up with helium and float off in the wind unnoticed.