Thoughts of April

April has always been a tumultuous month in my life. Thirty-eight years ago, I dropped out of high school in April of my senior year (if you listen quietly, you can still hear the screams of my parents and teachers). Seven years later, I moved from my family home in Brooklyn to the apartment I still live in here in Manhattan. On several occasions, I quit jobs in April (I guess I came to associate April with letting things go). Speaking of which, I threw out the only man I ever lived with in an April. My beloved mother died on April 7th 13 years ago, and my dear Tom died on April 1st six years ago; he had a droll sense of humor, but I don’t think he meant it as an April Fool’s joke. And of course, April has long meant the annual IRS filing, which, when I was younger and got refunds every year, wasn’t nearly as odious as subsequent years; for decades, April has meant Pay Up!

This year, April finds me in better form and spirits than usual. I’m looking forward to Passover, also an April tradition, sometimes a happy one, sometimes rather forlorn; my stimulus payment check (thanks, George, but too little too late); and springtime. For the past few years, I’ve watched winter bloom into spring and spring morph into summer from my grimy windows. This year, I want to go outside, feel a balmy breeze, maybe take a spin through the park on my mobility scooter – which I call The Enterprise, because it goes where no fat girl has gone before.

Several dear friends (including one now long deceased) have April birthdays, so there has often been occasion to celebrate. This year, I’m just grateful that (so far) nothing tumultuous is occurring. I want to keep it simple: April showers, May flowers. One mustn’t be a slave to the calendar.