On Seasonal Instinct (As Observed From the Windowsill)
- Serafina Baldacchino
- Feb 4
- 3 min read
Issue #2
Feb 04, 2026
by MaiTai & ZuZu
ZuZu:
Something is changing.
I notice it first in the light. It arrives earlier now — softer but more curious — stretching across the floor as if it’s looking for us.
The days are getting longer. The shadows move differently.
There are more birds to watch in the garden again.
The goldfinches have returned — bright, busy, impossible to ignore.
They argue loudly about seeds while pretending not to notice us watching from inside. We chirp and ekkkkekkkkekkkkk at them and pretend we just want to say hello.
We really want a snack.
The lizards have come back too. They’re clever.
They sit very still in patches of winter sun just under the windowsill, warming themselves like they understand something important.
We respect that.
They also look like snacks, lying there just out of reach.
Two things can be true.
We see this change in Mom, too.
She stands by the window longer lately. Not rushing. Just looking.
Like she’s remembering how to listen without asking questions right away.
Her mornings are quieter.
More deliberate.
She notices the light the way we do now.
This is what a shift looks like before it announces itself.
MaiTai:
Change feels different in the body.
For me, it feels like zoomies — the urge to run the length of the house for no clear reason, to leap where leaping may not be wise, to test gravity and furniture at the same time.
For Mom, it looks like ideas arriving all at once.
Restless hands and sudden thoughts.
Like picking something up, putting it down, then picking it up again because it suddenly matters.
Like wanting to move, create, sort, and start over — all before her coffee is finished.
I wonder what I would be like if I had coffee…???
Growth has energy. Sometimes too much energy.
Sometimes it sends you skidding off a table or crashing into a chair that absolutely should have moved out of the way.
(It didn’t.)
I crash into chairs that won’t move.
Mom crashes into thoughts that arrive all at once and refuse to line up politely.
We both recover quickly.
Most of the time.
ZuZu:
This is how seasons work.
There is watching.
Then there is stirring.
Then there is movement.
Mom has been in a long watching season.
Even when she was busy, she was quiet inside herself.
Restoring. Sorting. Waiting for the right warmth.
Now something is stirring.
MaiTai:
This is how growth shows up for some of us — messy, enthusiastic,
a little uncoordinated.
Not graceful. Not planned.
Just alive.
And just because the energy shows up doesn’t mean you have to chase it immediately. I’ve watched Mom try.
It looks exhausting.
Even zoomies end. Eventually you lie down somewhere warm and pretend nothing happened.
Humans forget this part.
We try to remind her by sitting on important things.
ZuZu:
Instinct understands timing.
The light knows when to return.
The birds know when to come back.
The lizards know when to bask.
They don’t rush it. They don’t explain it. They simply respond.
Mom is remembering this. Slowly. Kindly.
MaiTai:
If you’re feeling the urge to move again — to create, to plant ideas, to try something new without fully justifying it — that’s not wrong.
Just… maybe don’t sprint across your whole life at once.
ZuZu:
This feels like a season of restore giving way to rebloom.
A noticing season.
A warming season.
A season where Mom lets herself feel what’s changing without demanding immediate proof.
MaiTai:
Growth doesn’t need permission.
But it does benefit from gentleness.
And snacks.
And maybe a nap.
Definitely a nap.
Preferably on a lap.
— Mai Tai & ZuZu 🐾🐾
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