Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Pumpkin Spice Latte

Chilly morning air under gray sky but no rain. Only a taste of autumn because tomorrow it's going to be 80 again. Sometimes she misses New England with its crisp guarantee of cool fall weather and glorious leaves. Sometimes she misses feeling this seasonal melancholy while walking through leaves. But mostly she realizes that the restlessness feels the same whether here or there. It's not a place feeling. It's a wandering feeling that goes travels with you.

Today she sits, pondering why she always loses weight in the winter when she should be storing fat for the cold. She can hear children laughing and playing across the road. Her own child sleeps, curled like a cat on a sofa pillow. She knows this absurd thought process only masks the stirrings of something deep within her...something scary and a bit primitive. She tries to keep it at bay through silly thoughts, useless actions, domestic chores. She wonders if all women feel this a calling from Lilith not Eve with her goody goody Adam, falling for the oldest trick in the book, sweet talk from a snake.

"Maybe," she thinks, "I'll get a pumpkin spice latte on my way to scoop up the other children."

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