February 6, 2009
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12 below zero
how do you explain the cold to someone who has never felt it?
should i tell you how when you breathe in you can feel every hair shiver in your nose and the air rushes to the back of your throat and sticks there like an ice cube so you can’t swallow? Should i explain that then it slowly drips down into your lungs and makes your heart beat out your ears? Your arms and legs feel like brittle sticks that will crack if you bend them and your fingers and toes feel bloated or don’t feel at all. The wind slaps your back if you are lucky, whips your face is you are not. And it all feels so harsh and violent, like mother nature has taken personal offence again you.
maybe i would start like that. now i just need to translated it into Portuguese.
But the snow is better. when it falls, the bigger the better. when there is no wind you are sure the stars are falling, and when there is sunlight you realize they are really diamonds. i love them when they hit my windshield and i see their six points before they disolve like a tiny smile someone gives you before they turn their head. if you are lucky you can catch the world before the snow plows and determind laborers leave for work. it is a baby blanket spread out over the floor, waiting for you to sink your feet into its fleece. all the tree branches have their sleves on their arms and all the houses have their white caps on. When the snow does begin to turn gray, piles are pushed aside everywhere, transforming flat Indiana into a cave or fort in every corner. i find myself looking to see if some head will pop out of one and say “see? i’ve remembered how–how to stop and see the snow and do something about it like when we were kids. i’m not too caught up in life to miss this beauty.” i haven’t found anyone like that yet.
