Outside it reminds me of days not so long ago. IÕd talk, my face pressed against the cold winter glass. To you, and all of the yous. I wasnÕt supposed to be on the phone. Never was. But here IÕm watching, my cheeks pressed against the chilly window and I can hear the perfect silence outside. The snow drip freckle falls from the sky, caught in the draping glow of the streetlamp. Changing weather, changing season. Changing me too, all the time. CanÕt help it, and IÕm not sure I even want to. This is exactly how it feels to be me. Here. And right now.
My coatÕs being dry-cleaned. ItÕs getting too cold to wear skirts. And one of my best friends is leaving on a plane to exactly the other side of the world. This is the here and this is the now.
When I breathe on the glass the fog from my breath gives every glittering light a glowing
circle around it.
I need to learn to look through my breath.
Yes there is pain. There is lots of pain in living and being oneself. But there is more pain in not living. And hiding and concealing and crying.
IÕm alive and IÕm healed and I love the snow.