The Birds Sing in February

You know what's the worst?

Not knowing what to write about.

Yup.

I have a sad case of the writer's blues (and I'm blaming February - the worst and coldest month of the year).

But I thought, I ought to write SOMETHING this week for all you die-hard fans out there (it's a joke, so laugh, please).

So I sat down on Sunday whilst my Mom was tediously arranging our antennas (yes, antennas...WITH tin foil) on top of the TV in futile attempts to find NBC so we could watch the Winter Olympics.

Naturally, no divine inspiration struck me as I watched my Mom struggled with our giant rabbit ears.

So that leaves me here.  Tuesday night.  Avoiding my Chemistry homework and stuck still with no inspiration.

Then I had a thought. (Bear with me, I'm sort of winging this). The other morning I seriously heard a bird singing.  Not kidding.  I heard a BIRD SINGING in FEBRUARY.

What.

If A BIRD can sing early on a frigid February morning, long before I would want to be conscious, and long before even the first glimpse of spring, then why can't I write?  Why can't I be inspired?

Man did that bird make me feel pathetic.  Here I am all like "it's February, so I just need to put my head down and plow through", and here the bird is all like "I'm gonna sing despite the cold and the snow and all these lovely sleeping humans".

Because what is inspiration really?  It's just a way of looking at things.  The bird saw the new morning as a reason to sing.  And I saw it as just another freezing day of February.

What can we learn from this tiny singing creature?

Maybe that we should sing a little more, too.  Stop hibernating deeper and deeper into ourselves just because we don't like the world outside.  Maybe we should see things the way the bird does-
new,
bright,
hopeful,
and worth singing about.

...Love, Anna...