Dwell on Chill

I am sitting at a makeshift desk, a.k.a. a rolling food tray, by the covered window of a hospital room.  I am waiting for my mother to be released after the outpatient procedure she had today, and I brought my laptop with me so I could keep up with the rest of the world while I wait. 

This window next to me, covered with heavy grade putty-colored curtains, cannot be enjoyed as a window.  You cannot look through it to the vast outside, to the busy traffic below, or to the hustle of people running quickly to and fro in the parking lot.  

I am in a hospital meant to nurture, but alas, this visitor is uncomfortably cold next to that "no-use" window--the window with inadequate weather stripping.  It is a window with a sill that would solidify melted butter within seconds.  It is a window that, as soon as you pull those drab and heavy curtains aside, allows the hand of the outside bitter cold to slap you.  The slap orders you to "back away and close the curtains quick"; pull away with a violent shiver. 

So I did try. Truly I tried to look out a couple of times, but couldn't stand the chill. Instead of seeing the view, I am now crouched here in the only available chair, my knees drawn up against the feel of cool denim jeans, my nose hovering over a steamy cup of coffee, my fingers still stiff from this morning's trek to "here", and my feet feeling a need to soak in a pan of hot dishwater.  

Yesterday's high was 19° Fahrenheit.  Heading out to work, I felt my hands freeze painfully to the steering wheel of my car, after almost breaking the frozen door handle upon entry.  The heater began working well only upon my arrival at work--by then it was time to exit the vehicle.  To beat the cold outside, I ran everywhere; from Car to In, from In to Car, from Car to Store, from Store to Car, and so on. You can't outrun it. My body was tense all day long, waiting to relax to a warmth that did not happen until I immersed myself in a scalding hot bubble bath last night.

My body is tense again today beside this blanketed yet ice cold window to the stiff outdoors.   

The day before yesterday it never rose above freezing, and there was a stingy dusting of snow on the ground early that morning.  I sat at home looking through the living room window at what I deemed "inaccessible" outdoors. I looked at the yard I love to work in--the world I love to play in, and I thought about the day when it would be warm enough again to go outside without needing to run to beat the cold; without the cold need for speed.  

With arms clenched tight to my side and legs pressed tight together, my body instinctively tries to keep my own warmth to myself.

I long for the warmth of the sun on my body.  I yearn for the pleasures of a summer day.  I want to barbeque burgers after a day of mowing the lawn.  I want to sun-bleach my fine white hand-washables on the clothing rack. I want to hear the melodious buzz of the mud dauber wasp as she constructs her nest.  I want to see the locusts jump in front of me as I make may way through the grass.     

As I sit here at the hospital window, I feel the cold creep out from under this blanket of curtains and swirl around my lower extremities, linger on my nose and over my hands on these laptop keys.  It was 7°F this morning when I headed out of my house, and the high today is an expected 26°F, which will never be realized.  Tonight we are looking for a low of 14.  

I want to feel the heat on my sun-baked shoulders.  I want to be in south Florida once again--Florida, the Sunshine State and my birthplace.  I want to walk in the scrubby forested flatland where scorpions dwell underneath the leaf litter, and where robust roaches scurry noisily from the shedding husks of palmetto trees.  I want to walk barefoot in the Florida sand--sand that is laden with the nuisance prickly sand spur grasses.  I want to step on those sand spurs full force and feel Florida terrain pain.  There is a glowing warmth associated with this déjà vu; the sand spur in my foot.   

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