6:25 am. 5° F, feels like Antarctica. Wind gusts up to 31 mph. Dorothy Parker’s: “What fresh hell is this?”
Cut me some slack people, I know that I’ve used her line many times in my posts, but it’s the only jingle that captures this moment. Many moments these days actually.
You know the drill. Cove Island Park morning walk. @ Daybreak.
I pull into the parking lot. And there I Sit, with the car running, the heater blowing.
I give myself a little pep talk. “Come on DK. Come on. A couple of snaps and back in the car. “ A wind gusts slam the car. I shift in my seat.
I see my middle-aged runner friend in the distance. She sees me in the car, and waves. Good God Man. Have you no pride? I yearn for those days when little would stop me.
I admire the 4’ Something Mighty-Mite, and her short choppy strides as she pushes her way against the polar wind.
And there’s me. 3/4s of the way through Highsmith’s Diary. “As Merely a floating, fluffy daisy seed. Now you have it, now you haven’t, now you have. No, it’s gone.”
I can’t get out. I just can’t.
I check my watch. 30 minutes to sunrise.
I pull out of the lot and drive to Calf Pasture Beach. Seeking inspiration.
And I find it.
I walk out to the end of the boardwalk.
The sun rises, urging the mist up over the water.
Frostbite circles my fingertips. And I snap, and snap and snap.
The floating, fluffy daisy seed. Now you have it. And it. And it. And it.
Hold that Moment.
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