What is spring to me? Recently around Easter, I used this writing prompt in a group I worked with and was surprised that the first thought that came to me—after the initial automatic association of Mel Brooks movie “Springtime, for Hitler, in Germany”—was of the ubiquitous chocolate Easter eggs “Schokoeier,” which I’d just enjoyed before picking up pen to paper. Sweet spit rolled off my tongue, making me want more. More sugar, more nauseating sweetness to distract me from hard and heavy feelings. Eat this candy, a sweet egg, the symbol of a new beginning, and don’t think about how bad you feel. The egg is the potential for new life, but it is in springtime that death is most visible. Naked trees, trash, and even in my neighborhood, the occasional human refuse (drug addicts) strewn about the cityscapes. Not to mention the omnipresent dog poop, cigarette butts, and the remnants of bird carcasses—hidden under snow or trash during the winter—that decorate the streets and …
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