For most people, especially those who have endured a long, frigid, icy, and snowy winter, April brings a welcome sigh of relief. People are itching to put a pair of shorts on and go out there without their hats, gloves, and winter coats. Sure, it's still cold, and the roads can be slippery in the morning, but the snowstorms and blizzards are behind us, at least for the next seven to eight months.
Looking out my kitchen window early in the morning, there's no better sign spring is just around the corner than the colors, song, and dance the American Robin brings. Their bright orange-reddish breasts, cheer-me-up song, and quick dance across the grass erase the blinding white of snow and the grayness of slush. The skies are still gray on most days, but we know something wonderful and long-awaited is coming; spring and then summer.
Yes, April is the month of ends and beginnings. Although I enjoy the beauty and message the Robins bring and join millions in anticipation of spring and summer, April is not one of my favorite months.
For me, April came with the dreadful knock on our door on a typical bright, sunny day; the heart-wrenching goodbye to family, friends, and home, the leaving behind of sunshine in the tropics, and the beginning of a new life and a new home in gray, cold, depressing Western New York.
On this day, fifty-five years ago, I left the warmth of home, Cuba, and arrived in the United States on a US-sponsored Freedom Flight.
At every end, there's a beginning. This year, April 20th falls on Easter Sunday.
