Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Holding My Breath

February 9, 2011

The blue brightness of mid-winter days has the effect on me-- perhaps like being suspended in time and space. I feel held securely, yet spin freely, as though from a giant rope... There is a holding of breath-- waiting for something to happen, something to change. Wrapped together in all this loveliness is the invariable uncertainty, (which somehow is different from unexpected) of wondering what weather the next weeks will bring? -- Will it be spring? Will it be blizzards, freezing temperatures? Winter might hand out endless days of fog, inversions, or simply the days of gray sky, no snow, not warm enough to green, not cold enough to set the mud? One year it was violets in February, weeks of balmy air and blue heaven, followed by 2 foot drifts, ice, and a spring that couldn't get the right foot out front till April's end. In Fine, SUSPENSE. The whole while, a funny little inner voice retorts on any change in the weather, "I guessed as much." or "Just what I expected, of course!"

I love the crispness of air that in not nearly warm, but not cold. The freshening of willow boughs, and the deep breaths of outdoors that feel clean, new,-- unopened really. Today is like a package, holding unexamined delights. I will not be able to fit into it all that I know I'm longing to do. The river walk entreats, with its' sweet tang of cottonwood leaves and bark, watching the clear brown ripples. I imagine listening for birds, that never left, but have been silent until now. Today might hold a game of growling tiger with a six year old daughter; a visit to family; hosting a young folks movie night with buttered popped corn. The days' mid point melts out a time for singing out loud, arms open. Little Spring walks home with tiny skips and giggles for no other reason than it is today.

And yet, I go quietly. I zip coats, take children to school, and kiss foreheads. I say hello to people. I go to work. I hurry through tasks, though I admit to adding a twist of doing routines backwards. And after all, song or not, walk or not--it is okay, because the day has gotten inside me and will work its way out spontaneously, regardless of what I do.


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