January 20, 2016
Deer Park, Michigan
-2 F, and clear, and quiet, save the squeak of boots on snow, if you’re walking up a path
This blog is like a dusty room I haven’t peeked into in ages. Dismaying to think about. My shoulders tense into a guilty hunch. Easier to keep the door closed, as with so many thing in life. I’ll open it later. Tomorrow. But, also as with so many things, it’s not so overwhelming once you do get started, and since I’ve been dealing with a lot of dusty rooms–actual dusty rooms, and cupboards, and corners–lately, I have my approach handy. Quit talking and/or thinking and just start. Somewhere, anywhere. And then keep going.
This is the antithesis of a profound insight, and yet it’s easy to forget, or anyway, forget for just long enough to leave the door closed and wander off again.
Better to open it, that’s what I think. Yank it on open. As I heard some sports announcer say on the TV last night, It’s never too late to do the right thing.
So now that I’m in here, now what?
I went outside in my pjs while the coffee was brewing. (PJs plus parka, hat, and boots.) Took the dog, who was feeling very bark-y. Walked up the path toward Muskallonge Lake, saw a shooting star–!–and waded through deeper drifts then I’d been imagining. (Snow up over top of boots and down in. Shoot. Cold. Oh well. Have come this far, keep going.) And then I achieved the shore.
There were stars!
Well, I know there are always stars, but it’s been cloudy lately, and it was stars that lured me outside in the first place. I saw them glinting through the treetops while I leaned against the counter near the coffeepot. I remembered the planetary alignment. Five of them in a row for us to admire, and wonder at, and muse over, which is what I wanted to do the moment my friend Gary mentioned it on the phone yesterday afternoon.
And I did, that’s all.