A Sunday Afternoon

For many people the words sleepy, lazy, and luxurious would come to mind. For me, this is when he goes out and the house hushes, and all of the air particles rearrange themselves. My voids open up into big gaping holes in the floor and I pretend I am in control by calmly describing the wreckage. The wrecking ball is still swinging around out there somewhere, so I opt out of shoveling the steps and food shopping and instead sit very still, carefully stationed between the lack of this and the loss of that. The soft, grumbly snores coming from my little companian suggest a slower pace to my heart and thoughts, oh yes, just rest, oh yes, just rest. I mean no alarm when I tell you that I understand the desire to stop trudging through the storm to safety and to set oneself down amid blizzard, forfeiting to nature. We must be so careful of that illusion of warmth that settles over us when we lie in the embrace of the snow. Make your snow angel and get right up before the earth starts to whisper reasons to stay. You know it's funny, just as I reach for my shoes those craters seem to turn back into shadows.