I walked outside today and the temperature must have been seventy degrees. Shorts and a tshirt for the first time in ages. I felt the warm glow of the sun on my skin that was even cooled by a lazy breeze. The first wind in six months that hasnt had the fury of artic air in it. Freedom never felt so sweet. I sat on the step of a house waiting for the bus watching the people skit to and fro from their sunday afternoon obligations. Smiles illuminated the faces of these strangers. Joy I found their waiting for the bus. It hurt. The beauty of the simple day. Not even an extraordinary day in any capacity. After two months of freezing temperatures and icy ground though even the most ordinary day, the day common place day at home, seem so much bigger. I sat there and took in the sun lamenting the fact that i would soon be confined to this windowless room where I will slave away to increase my intellect via ritualistic torture...ie homework. But for that half as I rode my chariot from from one bus stop to another it was peaceful and harmonious. The funny thing? Throughout the wait and the ride to campus I could think only of another ride in the back of a 199 somthing Honda Civic with finger drawings on the back of the inside window from two summers ago. Of riding up Kanaan Dume listening to the Decembrists on our way to the beach not a care in the world. Heres to hoping we will never loose that ability.
45 days and this morning.
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