The night began next to the fireplace with a steaming cup of tea. You know - the kind of tea that you put a little slice of lemon into. Arvo Part was playing in the background and his Fur Alina flooded each room with a sound of piano that makes you want to think deeply. Record lows were supposed to be reached - it was going to be cold. Regardless, the house was warm and clean, the kids were asleep, the stars were bright and besides the music, it was peacefully quiet.
With it hitting my face and freezing my cheeks, I knew I was in for a long night. I didn't think it was going to be this cold, but it was as I found out a little too late. My coat was too light and I even forgot my hat. What was I thinking? It was a Michigan January, and on this night, it was nearing sub zero temperatures. A walk? Tonight? Never again.
Walking up Rich St., I couldn't wait to be home. Would this hill ever end? Each step seemed heavier than the last as I pushed myself up the iced-over pavement. What did warmth feel like? I couldn't remember. Although it was only twenty minutes, I couldn't even remember what my tea tasted like. The sound of Fur Alina had been crowded out by the sound of the cold and violent wind. I was alone.
You know those times when taste, touch, sight, smell, and sound become extra sensitive? It was one of those nights. Every car that drove by seemed like a big event. The motion sensors that turned on as I passed by startled me. The cat I spotted out of the corner of my eye made me want to run and scream. My own shadow could have scared me. Paranoia was taking its toll. The cold was taking its toll.
Are they out here or am I alone? They could be peering around each corner watching my every move. They could be anticipating what I would do next. They could think I'm up to something. They could think... What are they thinking? I worry about that. Where do they think I'm going? Do they think they have me all figured out? Or, perhaps I'm alone. Are these thoughts merely in my head? Perhaps they're inside staying warm - drinking tea and listening to their own music. Maybe they're completely oblivious to me being out here. What if they saw me? What would they think I'm doing? Would they think I'm stalking them? But I'm not. I'm just taking a walk. I'm just passing by. I'm cold. I want to be home.
And this isn't new. I keep leaving the warmth of light for the chill of darkness. Perhaps I'd prefer to be alone. Why did I put my tea down? I shouldn't have walked through that door. I should have stayed. But I didn't, I wandered and this is where wandering gets me - alone and cold and scared.
I can't wait to be back home.
