The Hot Winter Sun
Feeling the sun hot on my shoulders as I stand a ways away from snow banks that tower over the pickup trucks in the icy parking lot, I remember the sensation and know that I always remembered it; there were always certain things common to the physical existence that I encountered and re-encounter, that I enjoyed before and will enjoy again. Almost makes me want to come back again, thinking I’ll be nostalgic and want another try. Yet with sadness that indicates a falsehood I don’t understand, I feel it has worn thin, this smoke-and-mirrors, pay-no-attention-to-that-deity-behind-the-curtain illusion. I will work to understand the distortion that makes me think that any moment is not completely new, completely fresh and completely mine.