Monday, January 25, 2010
Today I walked home for the first time in months. There was no subway service past W168th St. (the A line has a will of its own to which residents of Washington Heights must submit). The weather felt spring-like, so I didn't mind the inconvenience. Neither did I mind the cement colored skies threatening rain. The clouds could have opened into a flood and I still would have rejoiced at being outside and not hunched against the cold. The mild temperatures continued into the evening, when The Pooch (nose still drippy but improved) went walking in an empty Heather Garden. Why weren't others taking advantage of this night? We stood on the Linden Terrrace, the lights on the George Washington Bridge twinkling in the distance. The wind sang through the trees overhead, and for the first time in weeks stirred up hopes for the future: for the spring when new leaves would canopy the sunset wine tasting held annually on the Linden Terrace, for a softer, more graceful time. For the last few weeks, I had felt like a leper-- a runaway cold sore had spread across my face and sprouted satellites on my body. Maybe it was the stress of cold weather, or the stress of taking care of The Pooch, or some other stress. I had told myself that I was fine, but it had taken a certain toll. Tonight , feeling myself again with my face almost back to normal, the wind on the Linden Terrace felt almost gentle.