Angel,
We are nearing the winter solstice and the mornings are dark and cold. We are layered in dark clothing, shrouding ourselves in coats, hats and hoods. In stations and streets while we wait for the busses, streetcars or trains that will take us into the city we stomp in our boots and try to conjure the memories of our warm beds. Though we have risen, showered and brushed – we have tidied our appearance and made ourselves presentable for the day – our minds, hearts and bodies still long to linger on soft pillows and under duvets – to turn in crisp sheets and to feel the warmth emanating from a lover. We may long to return to our beds and perhaps to feel one drawn close and to make sleepy love, to lounge, and to pamper our bodies and souls – to take care of, and to be taken care of. Or we may simply want to return to our own dreams, to rest and be restored.
But the day calls us, even in the darkness. With
devices, books and headphones we separate ourselves from our surroundings and
each other. We rattle and rumble on roads and rails, the noises are harder and
the lights are harsher and too bright. We draw ourselves into our own worlds in
vain attempts to keep the noise and bustle of the world at bay. As downtown
approaches, the press of the day breaks through and the memory of our beds is
just a shadow that you cannot hold onto. We will rise from our seats and step
into the world. We will push our way through the day until we can return to the
warm cocoon of our bed – to return to winter’s sleep.
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