I Am From… The Cold

I am from blankets draped around shoulders as we shuffle through the house, being careful not to catch the edge of the blanket on the gas burner as we warm water for a cup of tea.
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I am from the one who scans through the latest audio titles on hoopla, searching for yet another mystery to bring evocative illusions and drama from another far-off land as she empties the dishwasher, stirs a pot on the stove, or folds another load of laundry.

I am from the kitchen mop, standing ready to wipe away more streaks of mud, salt and snow.

I am from HIIT workouts, just to keep warm, as running down the snow ice covered streets is a bit terrifying.

I am from the one who now uses the clothes dryer as a comfort tool, using the warm garments that come out, as surprises thrown on loved ones’ laps.

I am from walking into the coffee shop, surprised to find so many faces, huddled over porcelion mugs, smoke floating above the cups, not being able to find a seat, and revelling in the joy of finding so many souls together in one place in admist the frozen tundra outside.

I am from the house with the dog who skiitters outside to find a place in the snow to “chill” in the sub 10 degree air, to escape the avalance of gas fired heat that swells in the house. (Crazy…)

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I am from the driveway that needs to be shoveled, if only I could break through the ice, compacted with snow.

I am from the driveway with spotches of broken snow and ice, where the edge of the show shovel blade has been used just to see what the driveway looks like again.

I am from the house with the phone that rings in the early evening, then rolling to the cellphone, followed by email pings, waiting in anticipation, followed by joy, when the kids are ordered to stay indoors instead of coming to school tomorrow.

I am from the cold water faucet in the bathroom on the first floor that sits on an outside wall, that always freezes off in subzero temperatures.

I am from the house with that one room where the door is always shut, where the registerrs are closed off, to keep the rest of the house warm.

I am from the cellphone that has two cities on her weather app. One for home, and one for the city where her son is off at college.

I am from the kitchen counter that holds a perpetual crock of stock.

I am from the family where your  “always-in-shorts” middleschooler wears pants.

I am from the college student, who has been out of school all week, because off the inclement weather.

I am from the cup of hot chai tea, laced with milk, who has discovered the luxury of stirring in a tablespoon of powdered chocolate.

I am from the house that loves to settle into the delicious mysterious on Netflix, and is curious to know just how low Donald Draper will go next.
 

I am from the softly romantic muted chrunchy sound the tires make as the frozen tires roll down the snow-ice covered roads, that is reminiscent of the sound a buggy would make if it were being pulled by a horse.

I am from the mornings that are just beginning to be laced with sunrise, as spring is on its way.
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