Tamara L. Siuda, unplugged
It’s already half past February. We had a giant ice storm followed by about a day of thawing and then a second ice storm. As a result, once again, Portland shut down for a week. Thankfully I was able to get by with what I had in the house, though the pantry ended up completely empty, and I slipped on the ice trying to get even to the neighborhood store when I eventually ran out of caffeine options. Coming from a place where ice is more of an annoyance than a real problem it continually fascinates me to watch what happens when it falls in a place without such experience.
Those quiet days were beautiful, though. Even in the center of a city, there was almost no noise except the children sliding around in the church parking lot next door. It was nearly as quiet as the first few days of the pandemic, and that got a little bit eerie, but before it became oppressive we thawed out and life spun back up quickly enough. I’ve tried to maintain a little bit of the slower pace, spending a little more time with the morning coffee or the evening cat-entertaining. Things get done and I don’t have to stress myself so much. Nobody’s going to take time back for me, so I’d best get better at making it for myself.
Several job application rejections later, I have several others out there waiting. Like the tiny crocuses (croci?) starting to poke up through the courtyard stones once more, bits of hope and optimism appear. I feel the seasons shifting and I hope to shift with them.