Broodiness is settling in as the snow turns over to sleet. Sleet brings a different kind of cold and a different kind of grey. Charcoal instead of silvery. All the gathered precipitation on my shoulders makes me feel every bit 6 o’clock. Done. Time to be home. Eventhough my cell phone says it ’s just past 4.
It also saysI have voicemail.
Rapping on the keypad with a mitten covered hand, I am unwilling to sacrifice the warmth of fleece and expose even a pinky to the elements. And I then I hear a familiar voice. I respond to it by breathing in a full deep breath into my belly. Maybe the first deep breath of the day. My vision is blurred by the collection of sleet on my eyelashes. My head is lifted…my toes are smiling and curled under. The clock turns back to nearly noon with every lilt, inflection and intonation.
Distracted by delight, I land both feet in a puddle of slush. And I don’t mind a bit.
