Batty Things

For the first time in months I've got the window cracked enough to hear that wonderful street hum, - wearing my favorite little flannel shorts - with so much bare skin shy in the sudden bask of light. 

So much soft-blue and yellow coming through the blinds, and bouncing off the dusty ledges and the dirty carpet...and the scattered clothes and the strands of hair.

I should be able to breathe today. 

It's funny - just yesterday the snow was falling; making cracks in all the Valentine's window fronts. There seemed to be a hands-holding idea suddenly come into fashion again (and less scary?) ...and after two buses and an hour subway ride I decided to take  the long walk past the park. 

And I'm thinking of it again with that batty old smile - passing in my heeled boots rush all those couples...remembering the park when the grass was steaming up from  humidity where there's an ice rink now, and children squealed playing in the fountain that's now covered in a coating of grey ice dust.

I was in love in this city once. 

And now, it's this city that I do so very much love. 

And that's not sad. Well - maybe it is. (What can you do? hah) 

But Happy Valentine's, or something like that, to all you folks. Cause I'm here to tell you this year I'm celebrating with a batty old smile - because I know a very dangerous secret. > > >

It's actually real. 

And it actually sucks. 

And it actually changes you. 

And who am I kidding? I'll do it all again. Just not today!

Like that second when cars whirl past, the wind switches directions, and the lightest bit of snow comes down again - and everyone pretends they didn't just look up into the sky for a moment -- We need to break the rules.

We need to look up. 

We need isolation. 

Because honestly, we need the winds to change and something beautiful to distract us from ourselves for just a brief period. 

And then, it's easier to breathe.