THOUGHTS: GETTING READY FOR THE WINTER

The cold and the clouds inflict an inexplicable gloom unto me, I feel sudden silence, one I’m supposed to like, but that excretes the clatter of routine at home, the street, and at work. Sounds of utensils clanging during every meal, the daunting howl of the dish washer, the grim creaks of doors, the wake ups of machine gears. The rasping ticks of clocks, and the feet thumps I could always discern in the deepest of nights. Dogs hounding here and there. Car engines rattling every morning. Keyboards clicking, earphones ejecting bass mutters and pestering noises around, at work.

My nostrils do not fail but notice the disgust of odors in the air, the burning stinks from bygone hay and wastes, forming another cloud of dullness, only a literal one this time, inserting a suggestion of a bonfire hitting the city every night.

I walk slowly because the whips of the cold wind always clutch around me, they curl around my huddled body as rapid clasping fingers, they prevent me from enjoying the fountain of my own youth, and teach me a very early lesson of carefulness and guardedness, leaving my own joys unsatisfied.

I’ve always had bad memories associated with winter, ones that mostly relate to my back-to-school adventures, nauseating mornings, compels to deal with incompetent teachers of useless lessons, and shortened nights, cut by homework and early dinners.

The year I finished education and graduated from my college, I pledged that I would choose peace with you, winter. But seems, memories aren’t that violable, rather stolid and just immovable.

Your only trait that I most heart and cherish is when you choose to drench me with your wet presentations. When you decide for your dark clouds to rain on the heads of mortals, you always manage to wash off dirt from the earth yes, but to my utmost awe and admiration of career, you wash souls just as dexterously.

You give me romance – the splashing sounds of your rain drops dripping unto puddles in the street, against the glass of windows, or hitting the folds of my umbrella, ticking car roofs or gingerly popping on my own head, all those audible and ethereal graphic experiences just render me serene and relieved.

You’re really smart, you fool me into believing that perplexities in one’s life go with the rain, you leave me hopeful and cheerful, but when the sun rises, you end your show with rainbows – the happy ending; the kind that urges you to weep hardly and waggly, because you know that reality always creeps right after, drags you on your bracing feet and jerks you harshly, and leaves you miserable and just wan.

Your lightening and swift rocks of thunder, reminds me of a beautiful soulmate, who was waiting worriedly for me behind the blinds of her colorful lambrequin, and upon meeting me with the eye, she flees to the foot of her doorway’s stairs, and jumps into my body. She pushes against me with her tender chest, strains up to me from feet that are standing on my own, and gives me the most endearing of looks a man can ever wish for. And with your next graphic splash, winter, our lips surrender to temptation. You skillfully seduce lovers to have beautiful pictures of heavenly memories and close intimacies.

How can you combine so much different feelings? Ha?

How do you reach into me that way?

For me, you’re the ultimate paradox, you’re the controller of opposites, you’re the ruler of all seasons, you have wisdom when it comes to our innermost feelings and emotions, you heal us, you propel us to face ourselves, and you push us to have resolution.

I just wish that someday I can run loose from those tying memories, but until then, winter, I will still heart the rain.

And for that, I’ll forever forgive you.