What’s your phone number? Go ahead, type it out in a comment. No? Why not? What’s that, you say? You don’t want strangers in a public internet forum knowing your number?
I often think deep. I observe mine and others’ behavior, then analyze. This is the theme of my blog, thinking deep, introspecting and discovering ways to overcome. I rarely run out of ideas. My poor husband has to hear my analyses just about every day at dinner or in the car.
First thing in the morning, I step outside to let the dog out. Steam billows from my breath and crispy white sheets crunch under my boots. A soothing song greets me from high above. Wait, what? There’s a bird singing? I can’t remember the last time I heard a bird sing. The branches are still bear and the ground is blanketed in white. Birds don’t sing in the winter. Am I dreaming?
I blink upwards, then squint to focus between the spiny sticks. Something flitters.
We finally did it. We got sick of winter and went back to the tropics.
If you’re old enough, you may remember the Frank Sinatra song, It Was A Very Good Year. I only know it because my dad was a huge Sinatra fan. He used to play his music in the car on 8-track all the time. I remember this was one of the few crooner songs I didn’t mind him playing. The melancholy melody moved me.
Side note: I’m a rocker, so my dad and I clashed when it came to music.
I mention this line of the song, because I’ve been thinking about what it was like to be a teenager. Do you remember? Were you insecure or secure? Were you a rebel? How did you feel inside? Were you confident or unsure? Scared or brave? Naïve or street smart? Happy or lonely?
I think the earth has shifted, or maybe someone has drugged me and moved my house to the North Pole, with me inside. Yesterday we received six more inches of snow on top of the ten inches already planted. On the forecast below, tomorrow’s (Wednesday’s) reading is not the wind chill, but the actual temperature (-25c & -29c). The overnight temps are on the bottom.