The Air & I

It’s a cold winter night in mid December, the last day of the full moon, as the year is folding into a new one, the world seems to freeze and sit still, not moving a finger or wiggle a toe.

Cold toes, warm mugs, heaters on, heavy sweaters, comfy blankets, christmas lights, cinnamon and ginger cookies, and fanciful dreams that only visit in December.

I sit here, wearing layers, thinking of all the people I love, close and far, writing my wishes for them for the next year, dreaming dreams of what would be. The window is hazing over, my breath is beating on the glass with a silent breath, making heat shapes while the street lights twinkle like little stars.

Adele is singing Million Years Ago over and over again, and the words blend with music creating feelings, words no longer are comprehended, nor understood, lost all meanings until I concentrate and listen:

I wish I could live a little more
Look up to the sky not just the floor
I feel like my life is flashing by
And all I can do is watch and cry
I miss the air, I miss my friends
I miss my mother, I miss it when
Life was a party to be thrown
But that was a million years ago

How ironic I think, I miss my mother too. Opening the window I take a sniff of the cold air greeting me like an old friend whispering “Hello, Dana.” I whisper back “Hello, Air.” I take another inbreathe and I smell rain, heavy, waiting, not falling yet, the clouds clinging to the drops not letting go. I whisper “Let go, fall.” A cold breeze whispers back near my ear “it’s not your call to make.”

It’s not, and yet, the rain and I are very old friends. I remember an old poem:

“because some things
sometimes
aren’t ours to hold,
but just beautiful
to listen to.”

Rain is like that, trink trunk tronk, when it falls, splish splosh splash, it says. Drum drom drem, it demands. Rain is gentle, overpowering and consuming, tip top tap, it dances.

I take another drag from my fresh dose of opium, the air shushes me, I stand still, letting the freezing breath leave my mouth, my chest full of cold air. I back away, enter the warm room, closing the window after me, and tickle my book spines, asking “which one of you will I read next?”, the air and I never say goodbye.

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4 thoughts on “The Air & I

  1. This is a beautiful post Dana. The perfect thing to read before I lay my head down for the night after a long week.
    I love the rain too. There is something rhythmic and musical about hearing its sound on rooftops and windows. We did not get much of it this year and I miss that beautiful sound…

    Liked by 1 person

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