Monday, March 07, 2016

Short letters.

Dear March weather so far,

Yesterday, March weather so far, I was prepared for you: rain, all day, steady. I woke up and felt like I was coming down with a cold myself, so it was okay. It was okay to stay in all day in yoga pants and work a little on this and that and lie down a little, then get up and work a little. Trying to stay warm. Definitely staying inside. That was all okay. Fine, even. The rain fell. I lay down, got up, lay down again. We had a good rhythm going.

But when the historian and I decided to dash out for burritos, and I put on my raincoat, the one with the bird print,  I wasn't prepared for the cold, not quite. What? no socks on? not enough layers? We got to the restaurant and I felt the cold every time someone dashed in the entrance, shaking hands and arms to shed the rain. I shivered a little through the chips and salsa.

And on the way home, the rain turned into snow, just like that. Today when I woke up, there was a light snow covering the grass. But when I went out to check the mail, I could hear the melt gurgling in the gutters.

I can see the rose canes starting to put their leaves together.  March weather so far, you're all right.

htms

c

Dear all the novels on my shelves,

I'm sorry, truly, for just setting you there on the shelves. I meant it when I bought you. I meant to read you, eventually. Basically, I thought I was setting myself up for a lifetime of reading, just lining you up, one by one, author after author. But now, there you are, half of you only partly read, some of you not read at all. One of you is, in fact, Moby Dick.

I'm so sorry that I only want to read police procedurals now.

But really, if you were more like police procedurals, I probably would have read you already.

Just think about it,

htms


cc


Dear save-the-day pesto,

Lucky, lucky me, in the store at 4:30 p.m., requisitioning potato chips and pretzels and other salty things because the salty thing shelf in my cupboard was bare, thinking about dinner, thinking, fine, pasta, and then remembering: basil about to go bad but not quite!

Oh basil! Oh practical pine nuts which I acquire at a reasonable price from Trader Joe's! Oh garlic and olive oil, let me never be without you ever!

And with a packet of thin spaghetti and the quickest possible salad, we were in business.

Save-the-day pesto, you are an herbal balm in the wilderness. You are the noodle's best friend. You are more elegant than roasted tomatoes, even, or, if not more elegant, at least more garlicky.

Super-garlicky, just the way I like it.

htms


ccc


Dear clear cold sky,

Thanks for being there tonight, at the end of a day when the snow melted, the sun shone, the clouds lowered over the mountaintops. Thank you for being there tonight, after a day when I could leave the gym in short sleeves and check the mail in shoes with no socks and pull out white jeans just for the hell of it. Thank you for being there tonight as we walked the dog, letting the stars shine their piercing light.

You are almost-spring's double and I cherish you,

htms

2 comments:

MJ said...

I love this ... reading these words on my way to an International Women's Day field trip after a hectic week of state testing ... a reminder of the small gorgeous ephemerals that make the daily so delicious.

MJ said...

I love this ... reading these words on my way to an International Women's Day field trip after a hectic week of state testing ... a reminder of the small gorgeous ephemerals that make the daily so delicious.

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