The problem with spring was that it was an in-between time, Sandra thought. She was a fan of the summer, and for her Spring was merely a practice round, a tease with a peek at the sun, followed by days of the typical Utica gray dreariness. She found herself in this moment, again, the perpetual moment of vertigo where she wonders how the hell she ended up in this place. It wasn't fair, but what is? Her sister Pamela, free and single, living in Key West. She had her priorities in the right place. Indeed. No mud rooms in Key West, just a place to let your swimsuit dry.
Leaning against the kitchen counter, she heard a sigh, and then realized that it was her own voice, a small echo rattling through the house, soon enough to be filled again with the chatter of Ethan and Suze, home from school. Whenever she felt that life was passing her by, it was this moment of elasticity that pulled her back, back to now, a 32 year old stay at home mom who still painted on the side. Her painting remained her reminder to herself that there was always more. It gave her a strange bit of comfort, a feeling of quiet strength.
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