Mid March and we still have snow. I have a strong urge to fill my street level planters with a banquet of colors, spring flora galore. But, as long as winter clings, best I wait. I am lonely in the cold. A lingering loss of stomach flora, after a poisoning in the Philippines, creating nightmares, in unrelenting loops, every night.
Narrowing alleyways wake me in claustrophobic panic. I have become too aware of inevitabilities, too knowledgable of vulnerable flaws, too aware of time. My dad is 90 and in pain and I have no words to comfort him, no sage advice from my 27 years in the Orient.
The alley narrows, squeezing me in... I feel cold sweat beading on my brow... I try to back out. Breathing feels restricted, my heart is clenched in panic... the force of fear startles me awake. Back in my darkened bedroom I break free.
Secure only in my aloneness.