Monday, January 24, 2011

Day 112: Bring me your heat.

I’m looking out the window and I can tell it’s really cold.  I see smoke from a chimney top frozen in midair, before one sharp gust of wind carries it away.   And the trees look so frosty and spooked.  Branches bare and fragile. Jagged and spindly. Like frostbitten fingers reaching out to no one. They don’t sway. And they don’t dance.   

It’s sunny, sure.  The sun is just playing his sinful seduction game.  He knows I love his light, so he tries to trick me. But there’s no warmth this season.  I know from experience.  And I find myself wishing he would really follow through this time.

I wish he would bring me a hot day with prickly green grass underfoot. Or the quick burn of my bare toes on hot pavement.  And cover my skin with a thin layer of summer sweat.  Where the only cold is the ice in my drink that quickly melts away before reaching my lips.

No blankets or hot water bottles. Or spiked up thermostats. Tea kettles that work hard and rest little. Feet layered in socks and slippers. None of these. Please. I don't want cold. I want you to bring me your heat. Sun, be bold. Be kind.

3 comments:

  1. Here you go Tanya, something to warm the soul!!!

    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VBbXKsKXyNU

    Stay warm!

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  2. Ok, so listen carefully: buy yourself a plane ticket - no, not to somewhere hot, but to a wintry Yorkshire, England. Find and enter a pub called The Bruce Arms. You will notice immediately that there is a log fire 'roaring up the chimney'. Order yourself a pint of Black Sheep ale (notice I say a pint and not, in a patronising 'glass of white wine for the lady' kind of way, a half. Book a room for the night and stay. Repeat this process until you have assimilated with what I believe the young might call the winter 'VIBE'....Only a suggestion of course, but if you do go - put a pint in for me as well will you? Cheers D x

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  3. David. That couldn't sound better if you tried. Thanks for bringing a different heat altogether. Cozy and warm.
    Tanya
    p.s. And I'm a pint kind of girl, no white wine (or halves) for this lady.

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