February

It's winter and it feels like fall outside. Thankfully. I'm reveling in the experience of the change of season and in the same moment, grateful that there is no snow. Part of me wants it to feel like winter today though--I'm even wearing a bright sunshiney-yellow sweater to combat the 'cold' and 'grey' in my imagination. My mind has been occupied with many thoughts this past week and I feel weary in them.  I've been working on a poem to describe it all and haven't found the vocabulary to finish the account yet. And, somehow bare branches and the frozen Charles (if it has indeed crystalized this year) seem the most appealing thing in the world to me right now. To witness something that outwardly reflects the inner soil of my heart in this day would feel refreshing.

Jumping on a plane and stepping outside that familiar airport, inhaling that frigid, exhaust-filled air and hugging myself into the arms of safe friends who know me is all I want right now. Those people who have walked so much of my history with me and understand where much of what's going on in my head comes from at present. The familiar pink mug and coffee in the morning--the solace of their living room and green couches--the ability to just be and know I'm cared for by them. The gift of knowing I'm strong, but not needing to be strong there. And, the irony is thick as I think of the way we always talked about my need to leave in February because the winter became too much. I now want the reverse somehow? Strange.

So, you know who you are--I'm just missing you today. Wishing I only lived that 15 minute drive away and could come over and just be there. Thankful that I know if I ran away to the Hub, I could do all of that. Just knowing it would be okay means a lot today.

And our friends, The Autumn Film, offer these sweet words to my soul today:

"May your heart hold on, when it gets hard

May your pulse stay strong, when you're falling apart

And so I'll row, row..."

--The Autumn Film, 8 Track Tape, "Row",  2012