Spring

Spring is wonderful in Michigan. The snow melt signals that the warm weather has arrived. Flowers begin to bloom. Birds and squirrels appear out of nowhere, ready to embrace the new growth all around.

Jenny steps outside, bracing for the biting wind, only to realize she has on too many layers. Her watch says it's 60 degrees, the warmest day of the year so far. When she moved to Kalamazoo for grad school, she'd worried the winters would be too intense. Growing up in Atlanta, she was seven the first time she saw snow.

The only problem: It's January 12th.

Fake Spring

You'd think it was a beautiful spring day. The sky was filled with puffy clouds. The temperature was unseasonably warm, perfect for short sleeves. The air had just a hint of pollen, so that anyone with allergies needed to worry. Colorful buds were starting to pop, and every creature, from squirrels to songbirds to rabbits, believed winter was no more.

I would have smiled if I could. Heavy storms were just over the horizon. Thunder, frosty winds, perhaps even a burst of snow.

George would need to hurry if we wanted to bury my corpse before the soil froze over.

Best Friends Forever

Michael sits on the dock with his feet dangling in the water. Frank lounges next to him, his nose alert for danger or snacks.

Perhaps they will go for a walk along the lake, or follow the dried creek bed up to the moss tree. Or Michael might grab a fishing pole from the shed and spend the afternoon at the shady shore. Frank would probably rather chase squirrels and rabbits in the grassy meadow.

It's the kind of day that you want to freeze in time and make it last forever.

The kind of day made for best friends.

The Wait

I woke up early and went for a jog. As I followed the path through the park, I listened to nature. The sounds of the birds singing, and the squirrels running up trees were a sign of early spring. It was an unusually hot day in March, so the park benches were filled with people. I had water in my pouch and took a sip. It felt good going down into the pit of my stomach.

After, I sat I checked my phone. There it was, the message I had been waiting for.

My first novel was accepted for publication.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Fond Memory

As I lifted my daughter in the air, her melodious laughter echoed. My wife waved and set the picnic table, her long blond hair blowing in the breeze. The birds chirped in unison and the squirrels scampered searching for food. The sun beamed without a cloud in the sky and I relished the day.

“Let’s go eat my little one,” I took her small hand in mine.

I sipped cold water and it cooled my insides. I kissed my wife on the lips and my daughter on the forehead, their smiles branded in my mind.

Tomorrow I leave for war.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

When The Heart Aches

The anguish of losing a loved one aches the heart. Henry knew this too well as he walked the cemetery grounds to his wife’s grave, carrying a dozen red roses, her favorite flower.

The scent of spring was in the air. The nearby sparrows chirped without a care, and the squirrels climbed the trees. Henry, too busy making sure the roses were placed perfectly leaning against the stone, didn’t notice.

Henry kissed her name on the stone. “I’ll be back next week, my lovely Serena,” he said and walked away.

A gentle breeze blew a rose petal in the air.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

A Beautiful Day For A Stroll

I strolled down the street enjoying the spring air. Birds chirped, andsquirrels crossed my path. What a beautiful day for a walk.

“Hey, Bree,” a voice yelled from across the street.

It was Myra. A nice person, but too verbose.

“Guess what, I got a job at Smith & Smith. I start next Monday. Isn’tthat great! I can’t wait until I tell my boyfriend Hank. He’ll be soexcited. Do you want to get coffee? I could really use a cup.”

“Got to go, Myra. Good luck.”

“Are you sure you don’t want…”

My stroll became a jog.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Pickled Confectionery

Anyone who's been to the wrong side of West Virginia knows that just about anything can be pickled. The shop windows are lined with jars of pickled vegetables, pickled rattlesnakes, pickled squirrels, pickled acorns. They'll even take candy and Twinkies and preserve them for wintertime.

My grandfather was from West Virginia and he would boast they used to eat the pickled leather of worn-through boots. I'm not sure if he was telling the truth or not, but it makes me feel fortunate that today we have the option of eating at McDonald's. Though I can imagine pickled hamburgers are next.