Mild Weather Days

The puppy always gets scared and hides when it rains; that's how you can tell the weather without even looking outside. Tonight I hear it drip drip dripping on my air conditioner. I would be muddled about it, but my only thought was that if it rains, it must be warm. If it rains, it does not snow.

Too many days I have spent indoors, immobile, allowing my muscles atrophy and my mind to grow mossy. The air is so dry, the light so artificial.

A dear friend plans her unexpected, and rapidly approaching, move to the City. Hearing her speak of it, I am reminded what a treat it is to move here. To imagine oneself on these streets, to peruse apartment listings and fret happily over practicalities that will make the dream true. I looked out over the water towers from the office today and realized that I have lost that feeling, where everything in the city sparkles, where every detail smiles at you. I am grateful that she comes to the city now, that I can see New York through her eyes, and maybe recapture some of the magic.

These last few days, my body has completely somaticized my February feel into an endless array of physical symptoms. But the thing is, they don't bother me one bit. I feel as though the buildup was worse, this is the volcano that clears the air, that eases the pressure. Once I walk out of this fog, it will be March. Once I walk out of this fog, I will be ready for a brand new day. The Word, the Madness, the City. I know they will have waited for me. I know I will be back to hold them dearly, soon again.