Spring hasn’t sprung yet here. Not In the far north. There’s a couple feet of snow covering my backyard. Our temps still dip to five or ten below zero at night.

March is the middle-est of months. A transitional time. I never quite know what to think about it. March makes me impatient. It fills me with joy. On days that get up to fifteen or twenty above, I wrap up in a jacket and scarf and go sit outside. I dream of spring. Impatient for it to come, but also, enjoying the feel of - almost- warmth that is finally in the air.

These days, my life feels a bit like the month of March. Both impatient and joyful.

“It’s early days” for a brain injury,” my therapist tells me. Her definition of early being a little different than mine. Still two things have happened this month that are encouraging.

• One of the exercises I do twice every day is to stare at a bright purple post-it note. I shake my head vigorously side to side while staring at the note. It flashes bright yellow back at me like a strobe light.

I asked my therapist, “Do you see the flashes if you shake your head?”

She replied, “Nope. None at all.” Okay then.

Last week when I starting the exercise there was NO flashing yellow light. Just a plain old purple sticky note. WHAT? No flash? Where did it go? Why did it stop? When I told the therapist, she said, “You’re still healing!” Then she proceeded to give me a harder exercise. Now I get to attach the yellow Post-it note to a paper that is WILD with design (say a plaid shirt, or a vibrant stripped cloth), stare at it while shaking my head while simultaneously walking around the room! Oh man.

I never knew healing could be such a beautiful word. I’m both impatient for more healing and joyful that it continues on. And on. Huzzah!

• I also joined a Love Your Brain online yoga class this month. It’s the first time I’ve met fellow tbi (traumatic brain injury) friends. Not therapists, doctors, nurses, or care givers. Friends. Women and men who are going through similar experiences to mine. In the group, I feel ‘normalized.’ When I say something like, “It’s awful walking in the snow. So noisy. So crunchy. I never expected snow to be an obstacle!” One of the other people on the zoom breaks in, “I know! Right?” They understand without explanation. I have found some commraderie, and it is a wonderful thing.

Last week, I got an email from a journal I sent the essay in to. They want to publish it!

It’s a delight to have any publication, but this one is very significant to me. I wrote it AFTER my surgery and brain injury.

And it found a publisher who loves it.

That news did my heart so much good. I’m delighted. Grateful. Full of joy!

• A friend brought me over a couple of the ARCs for The Clean Daughter.

I love that gold band on top. Advanced Review Copy! I know. I know. Geeky. But really! I have an ARC of my forthcoming book and got to peek into the formatting and font and all that inside glory that makes a book work.

• At 341 pages, The Clean Daughter is nearly twice as long as my first book. So Many Africas, came in at 175 pages.

• My first book was a paperback. This one will be a hardback!

• All the ‘book’ work is done now. I should have it in hand in about a month.

My oldest son worked in videography for many years and has since moved on to other work. He agreed to make this video for me and then went back into video retirement. I’m very grateful for his willingness to make it!

That’s March.

Full of impatience and joy. Looing forward to things ahead while also enjoying each day as the sun warms and the world greens.

May your March be full of warmth and smiles. Thank you so much for being a part of my journey!

Love always,

Jill