Tonight is one of my favorite kind of nights. Crisp, clean air and clear blue sky. Nine o'clock at night in the dead of winter. Can't you just feel it?! No? Let me paint a little more vivid of a picture for you. The temperature is actually about 12 degrees, but feels much colder--probably low single digits. It's one of the those colds that hurts a little when you breathe too deeply through your nose. The air isn't just clean, it's....sterile. The moon is almost full, a white-silver against a deep ocean blue. There are stars, bright visible stars--and we are so close to the city! I try to find the big dipper, but I can't be sure. The moon is a little to bright for stargazing I SPY.
I try to imagine one of my other favorite nights. Summer. The humid air wraps around you. You might need a jacket--especially if you're me--but you kind of like the feel of the slight breeze on bare skin. Again, the sky is filled with stars. It's not their brightness that defines the night, however. It's their magnitude. You truly know what it means to be small. They never end, those tiny shining dots. You can lay on the soft grass and just stare up at them.
But not tonight. It is cold and yet I am staring up at the sky in awe, breathing in the air. Willing my lungs to be clean and full. And just as I lift my right foot to take another step, the toe of my boot catches---oof! I am performing one of those falling, hop steps. My left foot stamps down hard as I catch myself.
Now, I'm not ones to take note of signs. I don't believe everything happens for a reason or things that occur do so because they are meant to be. BUT, if I was going to take this moment as a sign from the great-sign-maker, I think ze/she/he would be saying this: "Hey, Allison. You know, it's great to be a dreamer--all those thoughts you have up in your head are awesome. But you also have to pay attention to the path ahead of you. You still have to put one foot in front of the other. You have to choose when to avoid the ice and when to slow down, when to walk like a penguin and when you can pick up the pace (all good advice for any winter travelers). If you can't remember to pick up your foot to surpass the sidewalk crack, if you fall and bash your knees, how are you going to appreciate the beauty of the night sky?"
Of course, I don't believe in signs.
I try to imagine one of my other favorite nights. Summer. The humid air wraps around you. You might need a jacket--especially if you're me--but you kind of like the feel of the slight breeze on bare skin. Again, the sky is filled with stars. It's not their brightness that defines the night, however. It's their magnitude. You truly know what it means to be small. They never end, those tiny shining dots. You can lay on the soft grass and just stare up at them.
But not tonight. It is cold and yet I am staring up at the sky in awe, breathing in the air. Willing my lungs to be clean and full. And just as I lift my right foot to take another step, the toe of my boot catches---oof! I am performing one of those falling, hop steps. My left foot stamps down hard as I catch myself.
Now, I'm not ones to take note of signs. I don't believe everything happens for a reason or things that occur do so because they are meant to be. BUT, if I was going to take this moment as a sign from the great-sign-maker, I think ze/she/he would be saying this: "Hey, Allison. You know, it's great to be a dreamer--all those thoughts you have up in your head are awesome. But you also have to pay attention to the path ahead of you. You still have to put one foot in front of the other. You have to choose when to avoid the ice and when to slow down, when to walk like a penguin and when you can pick up the pace (all good advice for any winter travelers). If you can't remember to pick up your foot to surpass the sidewalk crack, if you fall and bash your knees, how are you going to appreciate the beauty of the night sky?"
Of course, I don't believe in signs.
No comments:
Post a Comment