Wintermute

I have vivid memories of my youth in Idaho and Eastern Washington-deep snow, parka-d up. The sunlight bright against the snow covered hills. Sledding, ice, snow days. Real cold. The frozen creek behind my house when I was 6 and the kid down the street fell through, even as we were all so careful to step where it was thick.

I remember the clear, moonless night in Ohio. Empty sky filled with stars. Almost naked, and alone in my head, I sat and spoke only to her. 'Till my lips went blue.

I never complained, for years. Everyone else hated it, all grey and cold and wet. I loved it with its quiet and its clean and the clear streets. We had a comfortable relationship.

Last year, after night after night of rides in the cold, cold night, I stared up at the moon(which was bright and blue against my rodsandcones exactly the way the cold air was against my skin), and broke up with winter. I don't remember what I said, but it was final, and not friendly.

I never used to get cold. I feel bad about that, but I suppose that's how it goes.

This morning, I woke to a break in the sky and a half-moon (philodox) like a grin. I rode in the sunrise, and it began to rain only as soon as I got to work. She did me a favor. I'd like to think that while we're not close anymore, maybe we're back on speaking terms, the winter and I.