A welcome to the winter

The morning kissed frozen circles on my cheekbones, darkening the sky with a gentle mist and I walked with my chin tucked into a strategically flung scarf; eyes low, pace plodding. The ducks startled at my approach, but I think they were just humoring me today or giving me a half-hearted huzzah for old time’s sake or maybe they were just so cold that it seemed like all their caterwauling was done in slow motion. Whatever the case, it did the job of warming my heart and making me smile and I offered greeting and salutations as I passed along our pretty little pond. There is a step beyond chilly where the winter loses all of its novelty and demands that you pay attention or find yourself in a predicament. This may have been the first of those days although I felt emboldened by my relative warmth even as the grip of old Jack Frost over took my balmy places bit by bit, like a Risk game played out over my anatomy. I made excellent time despite what I thought was a lackadaisical pace and then the cold let itself be known. Being still in a windy winter chill is not something that comes naturally to me. It occurs to me only now that this may be why I have never really been a ‘journey is the reward’ kind of person. Whoever said that obviously wasn’t from a place with long and dangerous winters. I paced around the bus stop like Rilke’s Panther, trying to ignore the breeze that had been blocked by the twisting streets of my subdivision. Foolish of me to try to ignore, but much of survival is mind over matter; a fact that the first few chapters of The Gunslinger will remind me later on the train. The bus is later than it has been in weeks and I spend every bit of the couple of minutes onboard trying to build up more warmth, knowing I have another 15 minute stand at the train station. The field across from the station always reminds me of The Ghost and The Darkness on days like these. The clouds are so low and the mist so thick that you cannot see the city lights of Austin reflecting in the distance; only a dozen or so street lights on the highway licking their way into the dark distance and then mystery. I retrieve the thermos of coffee that I have been saving in my bag and drink slowly and gratefully pondering the weekend that passed and the day ahead. I was a bit of a super hero this weekend, taking on parenting while an ill Etta tended to the needs of the city. I did all of the chores, took care of a sick wife, and took time to laugh and learn a little something about myself. Today should be a day of revelation, although if I have learned anything it’s that time has a way of dragging the real truth out over days and even years. As the train pulls up I make a plan of patience and quiet, then rifle through my bag, for a book I should’ve already read thankful for the heat.