I’m at the shop, watching wet snow fall on passing cars. Of course, we all knew it would be like this, but still, it warms me not at all to see the bleak wetness outside.
Even this morning, I took a chance on one last ride (in March) to work, taking one last glance at the receding ice on the waters.
One smile for the worker taking down a sign on Union Terrace (so ironic).
One lonely person by the icy water’s edge.
I’m wearing a lighter jacket and pedaling home, I push myself to go faster, trading a windy ride for a more energetic and therefore heat generating workout.
In the late afternoon, the skies look dismally wintry. Ed says – let’s have a game of tennis. Tennis?! We haven’t played since Hatteras, North Carolina. What happened in the ten months since?
I’d forgotten how bad you are at it – he tells me, perhaps to goad me into trying harder. But my mind drifts to thoughts of the long-term. Beyond the semester kind of long-term.
I miss three more volleys and say – let’s go home.