February

February is frozen.

A winter walk in a black and white world. The trees are naked, but the ground sparkles.

I step off the snowy white, one foot onto black. In an instant, my feet are swept from underneath, and I slam into the cold, hard ice, disoriented and disillusioned.

Too cold, too hard, too fast to feel the pain. Yet breathless. Struggling, I pull for air. I am outside of myself, looking down. Who is that girl that cries?

Frantic movements, I scramble back to my feet, dust the powder and the frozen tears off my body and my face… There’s a job to be done, people to call, arrangements to be made. No time to mourn, no time to feel. The cold numbs my bones like my heart.

A wintery blast swirls around me and I fall from the sky in the middle of a frozen landscape, tombstones all around me. With each step, the earth crunches underfoot. I am sure that it’s all a nightmare. Soon I will awaken.

Awake and my thoughts are consumed. No longer the girl I once was. Sleep will offer me an escape… or more nightmares…

I am lost and yet they say, “It’s time to move on.” To where? How? I go through the motions like an imposter. The world has four seasons; but I, I am trapped in winter.

A seemingly endless journey, the numbness yields to pain, rage, sorrow. Alone on the frozen tundra, head bowed, one more heavy step… and then another. I scream. But it only echoes.

Regret, longing and questions without answers, wear like a heavy coat, pushing my shoulders down. I sink into the waist-deep snow, wishing it would swallow me whole.

Where is the antidote? Where is the potion I must drink to restore me? Where is the girl that I once knew? The girl before the burgundy casket? That her father wrapped his arms around before it descended into the frozen earth. Before the bronze marker with a rose?

February is for love.

No longer one set of tracks in the snow but two. It’s you!!

An ecstatic embrace… swept into the air, we spin, up, up, up. I wish my feet never again touch earth. Holding you tight, never to let go.

Your warmth like a crackling fire, orange and alive. Hot tears melt my frozen face. And we commune around the flames- our eyes speak the words of a hundred years and for just a moment, every winter star in the sky is aligned.

But as quickly as you came, you go… breaking into a million tiny bits, stars falling from the sky.

I open my eyes. All is dark and you are gone again.

A thousand heavy steps and a-last you are back! New revelations, new truths… endless love…. In my arms I hold you firm…

Then, you’re gone again.

Fire and then frozen darkness. Again and again.

In the distance, a tiny light. A star that clings to the sky? No, a lantern. A cabin in the woods.

February is for respite.

Afraid at first to stop. To think. To feel. Afraid to forget. Comfortable in the cold and yet desperate for relief. The warm glow beckons me… and slowly, I step inside.

I am no longer in black and white. The color adds complexity, and nothing is as it was.

All around me there are pieces of you. A dino on the floor and a stack of books. Black lace. A small penguin on the mantle. A red rose in a vase. And I don’t know whether to smile or run.

I reach for the doorknob, not today. The cold wind blows outside.

But if not today, then when. Fresh tears pour over the edges of my lids and spill down my cheeks- and I wonder when they will stop coming. I close the door and slide to the floor.

I am tired. It is here I shall stay for a while.

A place to pause. To unthaw my frozen laces, to build my own fire, to rest and remember. To hang up the heavy coat of regret, and wrap in a blanket of memories for a bit.

It is comfortable here and yet I am uncomfortable. A place to settle and yet I am unsettled.

Many months go by and I think I recognize the girl I see in the mirror. A new girl, of whom I make my acquaintance. A fresh pot of tea and I sit with her.

Chamomile and white noise… to quiet and soothe, my mind, my heart that still aches …

Though the throb is a bit slower now, a bit quieter. I hear the thumping in my ears and feel the tight squeeze in my chest less often than before.

No longer a fight. Here I rebuild. Here I balance the storm with the shelter. Here I remember.

February is for my brother.