The sight of the Legal Load Limit sign at the bottom of our road brings a leap of joy to my heart.
“POSTED!” I say, with an exhale of…
Followed by a flip
of my stomach.
Not so easy, I remember.
Like any birth, first comes
And like any labor, we can’t be sure how
it will last.
it will feel.
How filled with complications
it will be.
In Vermont that labor is called
And it lasts longer than any labor,
so long that it really is a “season,” apart from the others
spanning weeks or crossing over into a second month.
Every year, we consider a truck.
We can’t afford one.
But it’s a necessity, we sigh.
Until it’s over.
And then, like any mother,
with a newborn in her arms,
Spring returns, and we swoon.