The wind kept me up last night. It was groaning, barking, clamoring at the roof. It tried to get in the bedroom window, tried to freeze the hand that was holding my book. I wouldn't relent. I got a frumpy sweater and wrapped myself up—sectioned and bowed—like an old lady in her bathrobe, and I lay down again with the covers pulled up right over the tops of my ears. Only my hand and my eye were exposed. My hand, my eye and the book. Winning. That's me.
Exactly why was the heat in my room unable to combat this infernal wind? It didn't make a sound—not one that I could hear. The vents were cloistered mutes. My heating system had left me to die of exposure, there in my own bedroom, just as if I hadn't been feeding it for years—feeding it money and turning its little thermostat in expectation of hospitality returned.
Wild things tore the night into a thousand pieces while I tried to be asleep.
Cats were picked up by gales and carried away from fences, keening, to be plunked down next to the open maws of dogs. Dogs were beaten stiffly with clubs of air about their naughty heads. The songbirds were taken and fed to the north, which was sucking the whole world in. February, February. I know it's you. You want to lift the dark world up and shake it a little bit. Set it back down and pretend like nothing has happened. Hide behind a corner and make us think that it was March.
My dreams were disturbed by the ripping of the world.
This morning, though, all is silent. The house, except my bedroom, is all warm. My cat comes in, reassembled, and now begging to be fed. No new snow has fallen and of course there will be school. All it was was wind. And the world looks almost the same. But for the cracks on everything, you'd think it never happened while I slept.
Author's Note: Most of this is metaphorical, except for the terrible sound and cold. No animals were injured in the making of this blog post.
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Faith in Ambiguity by Tara Adams is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License
This was very descriptive! And, almost accurate - not so destructive here. The cats wanted to go outside, but we kept them safe inside. And, I took a sleeping pill so I wouldn't have to listen to the wind.
ReplyDeleteMy cat has to go outside at night or the wind would be the least of our problems, in terms of getting sleep.
DeleteI loved this, Tara! My bedroom is also always cold, and I curl under down covers and wait for my heater that is Henry to toddle in, crawl in bed, and warm me. I suggest three year olds to combat winter winds.
ReplyDeleteNormally, my bedroom is warm, but, once the wind started up, my window decided it was more of a piece of cellophane, really. It's a silly old duplex with single pane windows. And it came without insulating three year-olds as well.
DeleteThis was great. I've been in Houston through a couple hurricanes, and the noise is the worst thing about it. During the last one, I didn't even have electricity - so I couldn't turn music up louder than the noise of the storm.
ReplyDeleteNoise beating at the windows: Scarier than it seems it should be!
I didn't look out the windows during the storm because I had been watching old episodes of Criminal Minds. It sounded like something really serious was taking place out there—probably a group of serial killers with fans. In the morning, my son's basketball hoop was turned over and the garbage was somewhere else, but all major building seemed to be intact.
Delete"February, February...Hide behind a corner and make us think that it was March." I'm glad this month has Valentine's day, because other than that, it's just winter drawn out. I'm glad it's a short month and that it's almost over.
ReplyDeleteFebruary is actually endless. It is only pretending to be the shortest month. It's always been February. And it always will be. Forever.
DeleteWhen
ReplyDeleteIn February there are days,
Blue and nearly warm,
When horses switch their tails and ducks
Go quacking through the farm.
When everything turns round to feel
The sun upon its back,
When winter lifts a little bit
And spring peeks through the crack.
Dorothy Aldis
We had a day yesterday where spring poked her head in - it was lovely and hopeful - even if the rest of the world sucked bigtime.
Reading this on the first day of "spring" when the temperature is 22 degrees and there have been snow squalls all day made me wonder if February is just trying to get a few last licks in.
ReplyDelete