Monthly Archives: December 2013

Me?Walter Mitty? Hmmm…

I am beginning to realize, I may be a Walter Mitty. Watching the trailers for the new Ben Stiller movie about the fictional character who lives an exciting life in his imagination causes me to reflect on my own reality. How many times do I dream it but not do it.

I live an very active life that many consider interesting, but I want more.

What it the more?

Im going to explore that in 2014

Iced In, Thankfully

It doesn’t snow where I live. It ices.  Our region will drop 40 degrees within an hour. We can have balmy weather, leaves still on the trees, grass still green… by late afternoon the same day we can have a sheet –a thick sheet– of white ice covering everything.

That’s what happened last week.  And I welcomed it.

This “icemageddon” typically happens only once annually and so it is cost ineffective for cities to have trucks and equipment to deal with it.  As a result, most everything just shuts down until temperatures rise and ice melts.  Schools close. So work closes.

And then we go indoors…and stay.

Then the power goes out because iced tree limbs break and fall on powerlines. Electricity to non-residential units is cut so as to try and keep enough power that houses can stay warm.  After a day or two of no power, grocery stores have to throw out meat and dairy product.  That seems ironic.  It’s actually colder outside than in the refrigerated cases at the store, but….someone will get sick and sue, so out the food goes.

Deliveries stop (except I’ve noticed the beer trucks manage to resupply key locations).  Store shelves start to empty.

Invariably people try and play outside.  Children with no hat or gloves, sliding in sports shoes.  Cardboard boxes and cookie sheets converted into sleds.

This goes on for two, maybe three days, until conditions return closer to normal and everyone is “back at it.”  Last week was different.  Last week, we were iced in for six days.  Six days.  Five were such that you couldn’t drive around.

So we walked.  Ski pants and jackets.  Thermals underneath.  Hats. Gloves. Boots.  We ventured out to the post. Tried to find restaurants that were’t closed due to power outages.  The walks were several hours long simply because our steps had to be small and slow.

Everything slowed down.

I sat. I read. I looked outside at the white ice over everything.  I silently spoke to the trees out front whose branches were so heavy with ice they drooped to the ground.  I asked them to stay strong and not break.  Trees limbs were broken throughout the entire neighborhood.  Ours stayed strong.  I thanked them.

By the end of Day Two, I noticed the muscles in my shoulders.  At first I wondered what was causing me to be so tense. Then I realized that it was the lack of tension and my muscles were relaxing. The process of relaxing was actually making me aware that they hurt.

By Day Three my entire body was achey…from relaxing. That day I also began to be more comfortable doing nothing. Meanwhile, my husband began pacing like a caged cougar.  He insisted on the daily walks.  He started cleaning things in the house that didn’t need attention.  The more he paced, the stiller I became.

I rested, for five days.  Just rested.  No agenda. No busyness. I thought I, too, would become restless.  I didn’t.  I became quieter. Calmer. More content.  I didn’t want the temperatures to rise.  I liked stopping. I realized how long it had been since I had no agenda. No tasks.  No “things to do.”

I really can’t remember when I last took a real vacation or just several days off to sleep in, sit still, do nothing.

The ice melted too soon so me.  I was “back at it” because, well, because I had to be. Responsibility. A job. Things to do. The shoulders stopped hurting because they were tense again and I couldn’t feel them.

I wonder what two weeks of nothing would be like?

 

 

“You Won’t Need Your Shoes”

She stood at the edge of the forest.  She was barely five feet tall and small.  Her heavy winter coat hung down near her ankles.  It was a hand-me-down from one of her sisters who had left it behind when they left two years before.

“What happened to them?” Marsha wondered as she looked up at the man her father had trusted to care for her.  Her father and last surviving brother had both been killed earlier that day.  This man and his wife had been willing to keep their word to protect her, while her father was alive.

With his death, her true protector was gone.  At fourteen, she was about to be completely alone.  The man’s wife wouldn’t look at Marsha while the man took her outside.  They’d trudged through the deep snow.  It was dusk, about to be night. She knew the story of Hansel and Gretel but, even if she had bread crumbs, she did not want to return to this place.  It was no longer home.  There was no home.

The man looked down at her.  With no expression, he said, “Take off your shoes. You won’t need them.  You’ll be dead by morning.”