ice-land
I scatter salt on ice and hope that it melts, knowing that its still too thick to thaw completely.
I scatter salt on ice and hope that it melts, knowing that its still too thick to thaw completely.
I feel old in a good way. I feel old in a bad way. I like the good ways that I feel old. I dislike the pain in my right knee, the lower back tinge. I feel time. I feel it stacking up. I dislike the way I had to stop moving so much this year. I disliked having to move around the city so much too though, travelling to three or four places in one day, how did I do it? I like the subway, the extra time, gifted. Exhausting, except for the energy.
Last night, Maewyn told me that “if you’re an astronaut, you should try not to cry because your tears will freeze into tiny balls that sting your eyes.”
“Well, I guess I’m not going to be an astronaut,” I said. Both my daughters were in agreement. I’d never make it in space. I’d have tiny stinging tear pellets in my eyes non-stop. I mean, I’ll bet I’d be too busy with all those switches and buttons to press.