Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Breath in the Winter



A couple years back, I was walking down the cement staircase of an echoey loft building in Williamsburg and I was freezing. I said something about not looking forward to being cold for the next you-do-the-math months. My companion on the steps told me that I would let that go, it was not my nature to fear something as out-of-my-control as the weather. She put a spell on me with those words. Ever since, I've loved this stuff called winter. Just like that, I changed my mind, "She's RIIIIIIGHT..." I thought as I began to love wearing two scarves a sweater and a sweatshirt. I like tea and I like boots and I love staying in under the covers.

Sometimes when I leave my house in the morning there are two or three teenagers up the hill, waiting for the school bus . Before I can really see them or even hear them talking and laughing, I can see their breath in the cold sun. When I get closer, their quiet is louder and they and click their boots together in rebellion. But from down the hill it's all poetry in the silence of their exhales.

I still wear a memento mori around my wrist. Last week I went back to the hospital to visit the gentlemen who was my dad's roommate. He's still happy to be alive. He looked over his glasses at me and told me it was good to know who his real friends are. THAT'S ME! PICK ME PICK ME PICK ME! I WIN! And I still have one or two or a million things I haven't done yet because I'm scared. But living closer to the land in winter keeps pushing me not to wait: "What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset." -Crowfoot

2 comments:

danielle said...

".... you're right."

[swiftly nodding head as i stay under the covers]

love you LP!

AshB said...

I love you too LP! Thanks for reading!

Post a Comment