I am laying on the couch with Luka the kitten in the crook of my neck.
Margaret is asleep and the house is quiet. Tonight we started watching Severance. Today was one of those days that is -4 degrees and requires a hat and also a hood or two. The cold makes me think about: the moment when the air burns down to your lungs for your first step outside, the stains on my winter jacket, sledding when I was a kid when I got that scar on my cheek, when it's cold enough to keep the snow from turning to slush, Pine Street Cafe, the people who are without shelter, the way my parents always taught us to take care of one another
Last year we had weeks like this, too, with the cold. It made my bed break. My heart was also broken, which didn't help the discouraging bed situation. The wood snapped. I had to throw the whole thing in the alley once the winter turned to spring. This year my bed hasn't broken yet. And my heart isn't so broken like it used to be.
Chicago, I do love you. The cold won't let me ignore you.