Arctic Freeze

A house sold, fast fading astern in memory. A house closed, relief about beating the freeze to the pipes. A house rented until June, not far away from school. And here we are, all cozy and warm and yes, baby, it is cold outside! The hope now is to settle in a bit, to not be so topsy-turvy, to establish a new home, even if only for six more months. It will be warm again then, and hopefully the wolf will not feel as close to the door as he was last year, that year of limbo, of transition and of frustration.

This is a delicate moment in time. We survived the crisis by being resourceful, by having friends, by luck and never blinking except in bed in the middle of the night, staring at the ceiling from under the comforter when our multiple exposures seemed potentially disastrous, when the fear monsters reign, terrorizing sleep. We have a chance to breathe deeply and get ourselves aboard another train, one that keeps us tagging along upon the tails of the future, the caboose, or on the stern of that ocean liner instead of floating in the icy water, watching it disappear on the horizon. The freeze is OK for now. As a metaphor, it says that nothing's changing for a moment, although this is true only metaphorically speaking. Anything could happen in an instant, and I hope that nothing does. We need this stasis and to look ahead and make some active choices for a change, not wondering about our situation, no longer immediately worried about falling off another cliff into the crashing surf below, not knowing exactly what we have to work with.

Change has come today. Savor it; be prudent and provident in Providence. We have prevailed by the skin of our teeth and we can celebrate briefly, and learn from the past and point to a brighter, more confident, coming year.