it was the kind of day where the wind is so bitter, so fierce, that it fights through your jacket and sends shivers erupting down your spine.
the snow was wrapping aggressively around street lamps, trees and buildings. today was the kind of day when the coldness sank a little deeper than hands, flesh, or bones. the kind of day when the coldness seems to comes straight at your heart.
today, was cold.
and as i walking, my pace ever quickening, i felt as thought i would freeze right through before i ever reached the other side of my door. i thought for a fleeting second that my veins would begin to freeze from the tiny capillaries in the tips of my fingers,
up my arms,
across my shoulders,
through my lungs,
then the ice would begin to crackle up into my chest,
and theh-bump, theh-bump, theh-bump________
____________________________________
_____. and i would freeze over and cease to be.
but the beauty of this cold afternoon is... i didn't freeze.
i had enough warmth to walk across 9th street and then 8th street. enough warmth to run across the snow dusted lawn, up the cracked cement path, and slip through the entrance, to the other side, the warm side, of my door.
the beauty is that we have enough warmth to make it to the door. enough to persist through the bitter cold. enough to run quickly home.
we have enough to make it to the other side of the door.