I am waiting for the sky to fall, although it is falling. I’m waiting for it to freeze, as the flakes brush up and stick against my skin. I shutter at the light that is slowly bending around the globe. Shuttering at the blindness that it brings.
Beneath the frozen flakes I see the seeds awaiting the spring. I trip on the ice that has masked itself to the pavements dark grey. I await for the skies to shatter as the wind shutters my windows and the limbs of the trees break under the weight of the snow. Slow, the city is slow, and my steps are deep trudging along the sidewalks in the night. Each footprint to me marks unmarked territory and I am marveled with each breath at the adventure my imagination brings into my steps.
I feel alive. I feel free. I feel a longing for the north and my mind constantly repeats ‘The Cremation of Sam MeGee’, a poem I memorized as a young child. Here I wait. For Christmas? No. For Chanukah tomorrow?
I wait for love. For God. For the reason that makes me disdain the alcohol I ride upon. Waiting, always waiting. The great Dr. Suess did say. “Waiting for a train to go, waiting for the grass to grow, a bus to come, a plane to go, everyone is just waiting- waiting for a yes or no.”
Oh silly man, how true, but right now I wait for there’s nothing else to do. The sky falls and I wish to lie under it. I heard tales once when I was young and suicidal of people who walked far in the cold, only to warm up, tire, and stop to rest where they would freeze to death. It was the ultimate of suicidal dreams to me. An eternal peaceful sleep. I am not suicidal anymore and yet my body still burns to curl up within the falling flakes and go to sleep forever.
“And so lightly and brightly the Chanukah candles glow, shining with glory, remembering the story of times way long ago. Shining with glory, remembering the story of times way long ago.”
I blow out the candles and once again I am left in the darkness of the night and the coldness of the snow.