The coming warmth
As I was driving towards my boyfriend’s house, I rolled down the window, enjoying the evening breeze. The waxing moon was visible in the darkening sky, a sharp sliver of silvery-white. And I felt a little home-sick. Not that I was leaving my actual home, but that I missed being able to go out at night and not having the painful winter cold strike my skin through my clothing, driving my indoors and loathing going outside. Thats whats cruel about living here sometimes: Winnipeg is a city of extreme temperatures, especially during the winter.
But back to the main point of my story. I really did miss the nights with the cool breeze whipping through my hair, caressing my skin. Even though its still winter, I can tell that spring is on its way now. It’s gotten warmer before, but nothing like this. I honestly cannot wait when I can go outside without a jacket, or be able to watch the loud lightning storms as the rain falls from the sky. It’s really hard to explain this all in words about how I felt, but it definately re-affirmed my of something: that the night’s, and the night wanderer’s, call is something that I cannot ignore. It sings to my soul, like a soft flute playing that exact tune that you’ll listen despite anything.
It doesn’t mean that I’ll just stop doing everything and follow (though I do believe that one day that will happen), but it knows I am listening when it calls.
I think its time I get to cleaning up my space. It’s long overdue.
