The Uptick

The things that come from the warmth of the spring sun help us crawl out of the darkness and gray of winter. A city that was never frozen begins to thaw, and for the first time in months, the clock's second hand begins to click again. Big city lights give way to long sunny nights, and you can begin to see the green once more.

Who knew the urban landscape, with its ribbons of roads, and its ever moving river of traffic, could look this beautiful.

Constant highway noise becomes regular when you are in the city. Grinding wheels on rough pavement create this low hum that can always be heard.

I can hear it on my front porch. It's always there, humming along, like a gas engines in the very vehicles that travel upon its surface. But this car never stops.

Transition now to the electric rails. The rocking of a car back and forth as it travels its set path. As sheets of rain fall outside, you are just thankful to be in the warm car, only to confront your warm spring inevitability in a couple of minutes. But that makes the rain different; it's a spring rain. It doesn't numb the toes; it cleans the soul.

Once you arrive, you walk around the park. Dance along the ballroom floor. Squeak into the house. Your feet take you where you want to go, where you dare to go, and where you need to see. That is the beautiful thing about travel and experience. Eventually, it all goes back to your feet. To get you out of the car; to hop down from the bus; to get you off of the train; to pedal the bike; to sway with the ship; to stumble in flight. Your feet do all of that for you.

And once the spring comes the switch flicks, and you are now in the uptick. And you dance in the sunshine of the fading day.