Just One More

Clumps of moist earth stain the tired remnants of yesterday’s snow, and the sharp wind slaps me wetly on the cheek as I trudge onward. I can’t stop. If I do, I might not make it. After all, I forgot to leave my phone at home, and its slight weight in my pocket is a promise that connects me to everything I’m trying to leave behind.

But I need this. Air. Silence. Silence from too many thoughts and too many demands and too many little hands and shrill voices all asking and telling and wanting. I just want to be, without thinking of the future, or all the loads of laundry that have mysteriously appeared once more in the depths of the hampers, or the supper as yet unmade, or the piles of papers staring accusingly from the littered dining room table….

Bejeweled strings of lights spill out of the nearby windows, and I pause to see the shapes of the people within, sharply etched against the glass. It is bright inside, but it suddenly feels harsh. Too clear. Too defined. The window bar shadows form a lacy pattern on the sidewalk, and I pass through them swiftly. A hiss of tires sweeps through a nearby puddle, sending up perfect arcs of dark inky water. Droplets sparkle briefly in the air, and then disappear, swift as a glance.

And then it’s silent… so still I hear the harshness of my breath as I walk more quickly… the staccato sound of my feet on the pavement. I can almost hear the tangled swirl of thoughts seeping out of my mind, puddling behind me.