Tempermental

Tempermental

Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Tempermental....

 

It's like waiting for the snow, in the middle of June.  You know that it's almost impossible yet somehow you make yourself believe that it will happen.  You sit at that windowsill hoping for a flurry or two as you sip on a tall glass of cold iced tea.  You set it down next to you as you rest your head in the palm of your hands and you watch the glass prespire as the heat gets to it, and to you.  You wipe your wet forehead with the back of your free hand and wipe the sweat off on your terry cloth, Juicy Couture, "high end", "paid too much", mini skirt and you don't even give it a second thought because you are so fixated on the fact that you need it to snow. Now.

I am waiting by that window sill and it's a warm summer morning.  The kind that reeks of sunshine from the very moment that you awake.  There are birds outside happily going about their bird lives, running to and fro their nests, desperately working to feed their little ones as I patiently wait at my window sill.  Today I have taken out my ski suit and laid it out on the couch, in support of the cold weather watch.  Perhaps putting it out into the universe will help speed things along.  I've also got on my uggs and a yellow Old Navy sweat jacket on in this impossible heat and I keep chanting to myself, "it's cold, it's cold, it's cold" so that I can somehow change the order of nature with just a few mere words.  I've told very little souls of my rituals, in fact, I've told no one save for Betty and Ron.  They are the only ones who won't look down or judge me or tell me to be "patient" and to "stop stressing".  The others don't understand and quite frankly, why should they?  They are not accustomed to having the weather patterns not go their way and somehow, they are all quite well equipped for any torrential downpour, snowstorm or blistering heat they might cross.  But me, for some reason or other, I always seem to be caught in the middle of a rainstorm minus an umbrella.  This time though, I want to be prepared, I need to be prepared. I will will this if it takes every ounce of my soul.

Let it snow. Let it snow. Let it snow.

So, I wait.  I watch the tigerlillies in Ms. Fitzgerald's garden drink in the sunlight that is radiantly beaming down on them and I watch a sparrow sit on the edge of a pool of liquid that was expelled from some unfortunate child's quarter drink.   I listen to the sounds of heat: the honking of horns; the rush of a garden hose; the clunking of a lawn mower and I try not to focus on losing myself in the midst of it all.  

Let it snow. Let it snow. Let it snow.

I push myself to imagine a huge iceberg tearing its way down the street: KERPLUNK!  It shoves along mounds of dirt and little old Ms. Frankel's tea cup yorkie which is helplessly yelping under it's gigantic, icy tow.  I cry out with joy as it turns down my corner and suddenly turns everything a crispy, icy blue.  I imagine myself falling out my window, after it has left a snowy, blizzardy path and instead of bloodily crashing onto the sidewalk below, I tumble into a soft blanket of snow, face up, creating snow angels as an homage to the great white wish that I have been granted.  

I am crying now, tears matching the very drops that can be found on my already warm cup of iced tea.  For you see, it wasn't really snow after all.  Upon closer examination, it was a field full of beautiful dandelions, the white wish kind that you used to pull out of the ground when you were a little kid and "make a wish" and blow on.  They are surrounding me and the huge iceberg that I had previously imagined was nothing but a NYC garbage truck making its rounds, picking up the smelly garbage that has accumulated on our sidewalks.  Slowly, I pull my feet out of my Uggs and I take a long swig of my piss warm iced tea.  Suddenly, I look down at my sill and there, amidst my tears and disappointment lies a dandelion, waiting to be blown away......and so, I make a wish.

Guess wishing for snow will just have to wait for today.......but there is always tomorrow.