Tuesday, March 12th

A day in images: 

I always wake before my family. I ease into the day drinking coffee and reading.  Today I finish the Murakami book.  His writing is like a gentle voice talking right to me, like spending time with a friend. I will miss his philosophical observations.  

Walking to work in the dark again, the music coming from my earbuds makes me feel like I am both in my own, private room and expansive, like I'm walking across a screen.  A version of "Angel from Montgomery" comes on that I've never heard before and headlights, March weeds bowing their heads, everything looks more beautiful. 

In the afternoon, I call my 12 year-old son to say I'll be home soon.  He answers the phone and says, "It's so beautiful out!" Then he sings a silly song whose words are something like:  I'm happy, so happy, happy.

I go outside and see what the singing was all about.  The sky is blue, blue.  The air smells like the wet underbelly of the world, like plants rotting, like Spring.  Two planes draw parallel lines across the sky in satisfying symmetry.  Suddenly, I'm surrounded by teenagers running.  I hear their breath, so alive and moving, and see splatters of mud painting each runner's back.  .

On my walk home I see a grown alone man walking around on the ice pond in our park . Later, when I walk the dog, I see why.  The ice is melting in artistic textures, forming a blue, grey, green, milky white sculpture. It crumbles on the edge of the pond with a lovely crunch.