January Demons and Warmth

 I'm impressed that I was able to cut my stream path (I paced it off - some 1500 feet) and I love being able to go lean against a tree and read a book.

But I'm a little sad that I finished it so quickly - I thought it might take 2-3 months instead of just one.  I looked forward to going down there, hand clippers in pocket, lopping shears in one hand, branch saw in the other.  The Zen of just seeing what needed to be cut, and how to take one more step forward.

Because the January demons are here.  I was hoping I was past them by now.  The problem is the coincidence of the dates.  Like the coincidence that my mother died on my birthday; things just match up like that sometime.

Bob and I met in January  (1972)- he had just transferred from another school.  We were both in ROTC, and we met when we both pledged the Pershing Rifles (an ROTC organization).  From day one, we found that we just worked really well together.  Hard to believe that we were still teenagers.   His birthday is in January.

But 48 years later, in January, he checked into the hospital, started chemo, had his stem cell transplant, and realized that it failed.

I try not to dwell on it, and I don't talk about it (except here), but those demons are with me.  I just hate that he had to go through that.

Last year I wore myself out dragging stuff out of the barn.  This year it was the path - except that it's done.  I need to some up with something else - something to focus on, preferable physical.  I am scheduling some stuff, just for distractions (a book club meeting, a lunch with current and former museum employees, and - such fun - finally getting the preliminary work for my crowns).

I've been thinking about warmth.  I written about warmth before - it's a concept that I keep returning to (especially in the winter).  Warmth is more than a temperature - like hot or cold.  I think what finally hit me is that warmth is a transition.  You can be hot, or you can be cold, but to feel warmth you have to be cold first.  To use a modern buzzword - warmth is interactive.   Warmth is when you feel the sun on your face.  When your feet are cold and you put on a pair of woolly socks.  In A Christmas Carol, Dickens talks about people standing in the snowy streets but holding their hands out to a fire in a barrel.  Going from the cold outdoors into a heated room.  Wrapping chilled fingers around a cup of hot cocoa.

Sometimes it can be a slower transition.  You go to bed, sliding between cool sheets, then relax as your own body warmth surrounds you.  Now, when I read at night, I have a pillow on my lap under the blankets to prop up my book.  When I'm ready to sleep I pull it up under my arm (it's my "cuddle pillow") and it's nice and warm.

I just had a sudden memory from years (maybe 50 ) ago.  Bob was talking to someone from another country, and she was saying that it was a little sad that American homes didn't have a "warm" place.  We have central heating, so the house is at a comfortable temperature - and everyone can be in their own rooms.  Back home, they heated with a wood burning stove, and everyone would gather around it.

And, of course, there's the warmth of a smile, or a hug, or just a feeling of warmth if you go somewhere and feel welcomed.

Warmth is when something tensed inside of you can relax.

So now I enter a time period where I will be entertaining demons (I refuse to fight them) and seeking warmth.