My Feet are Cold and Other Musings while Rolling Through the Deep

Another day. Another really not so good day, but I hear a friend’s voice in the back of my mind reminding me:

“Focus on having more and more good days and linking them together.”


Another delayed flight. Delayed plan. Delayed ability to see someone as anything but an asshole. Seriously blinded in this moment and wanting a different time; a different moment. My first love’s voice smiles in my ear:

“Good things come to those who wait.”


Another communication attempt. My phone battery drains, dying from the barrage of e-mails, texts, calls, IMs. My battery drains. Is this really necessary? I remember when electricity was necessary during a winter storm in New York. The girls and I survived without supplied power for a week. There is beauty and peace in that memory.


I turn it off.  Kill it.

My feet are cold. I’m tens of thousands of feet in the air suspended in this mystery of flight and all I can think about is how cold my feet are. Really cold. I look out the plane’s window and see the sun. My dad is always reminding me, “The sun still comes up in the morning.” My mom says things like “Shazz-butts.”  Everything looks miniature, as are my problems.

The world is small and I am on top of it.


When you are rolling through the deep, you’d better pack your patience, your persistence and a good dose of perspective and go about your way as simply as possible.

I’m reminded by another friend’s attempt at haiku:

it’s temporary

all these things will fade

you emerge intact

Pretty good attempt. I’m resolved to do just that.



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