celestial/wednesday

something feels celestial in my bed. (random thoughts, wednesday morning) (hump day)

my daughter and i live a few blocks from the 44th president’s house. i suppose this is a good point in the future history. after all, no one marches anymore. there are no sit-ins in my neighborhood. no one is protesting anything in my streets. but when obama won, my white friend and i ran outside of my apartment and partied right there on the street with the other obama-revelers. this is a good point in the future history.

i thought, as i walked to work, that this is a good point in time, weather-wise. i mean, today was a good example of winter weather. the snow had settled all over every outside surface like an angelic halo over hyde park. fluffy. clean. downy. rare. and dawn lit the sky dark blue. i told the kid if only the man could see this, he’d feel better about living here. she agreed, noting the temp was even bearable. “perfect,” even. regardless, i claw through the murk of every winter morning just the same. i blank out. i contain my shivering by standing still or walking briskly. i over dress. i keep my head covered. i wear layers of pants and socks. i cross against the light. i ignore construction workers. i slip. i slide. i step gingerly over salty brown snow. i hate this part of winter. i love the challenge though. i tell my daughter this is making us stronger than the drivers of cars. i exhale when we take cabs.