|This is the day the Lord hath made, let us rejoice and be glad in it.|
The long hills off I-376, that used to be PA 60 still thrill me. The Amish corn stalks, neat triangles dotted rolling fields. The white houses with their side drawn curtains anticipated windows opened. But the air was too cold.
I descended into New Castle and remember thinking all those churches- First and Third Presbyterian, and I think a Methodist- were castles when I was small. The city was named New Castle, weren't they new castles? I longed to walk with a good camera and snap pictures.
Some neighborhoods still tired, like when they first were dying as the industry left almost forty years ago. Then some homes, the huge Victorians refurbished with someone making money, loom on the North Hill by the Scottish Rite Cathedral. I'd loved to walk, but am not dressed for the raw forty degree weather. I remember walking or riding the bus when I lived here during nursing school. Parts tired, and other parts renewed, the way I have felt with this sinus infection.
Some days I wake since being on the antibiotic thinking, "This is the day, I feel well enough, I'll forget my antibiotic." Then, I weary into the day. The sun so bright with no warmth mocks at the window. It seemed to feel better in February.
I never liked March. March's only saving grace, now, is like all the months it will be over soon. I sit on the cusp of spring and still see snow in the forecast. Will we have another blizzard? It is not uncommon. The first week of April in 1982, I got stuck in a blizzard with my future in-laws, camping in an Airstream at a site in Groton, Connecticut. I've seen blizzards in April many times.
Mostly this infection drags me down. Dressed warm enough, I could walk the dog. He desperately needs the long walks again. But I think forty is colder than twenty five. I whither at the thought of being cold. I have that lead in my veins from being sick. My chest bears pain and feels pinned to the chair. I cough, but little comes up. I don't want to be outside. Even driving too long wore me out, as I tried to adjust the heat in the mini van.
March drags out. Longing for warmer days grows more intense. I think of sitting on a beach wall in New Hampshire waiting for spring and not dressed for the cold. I have learned since then. I shivered at the co-ed wearing shorts yesterday strolling near the college in New Wilmington. I wanted a hat and gloves.
Clear, bright, cold sun replaced by amazing starlight. Yet, again, I don't grab my white winter coat to walk at night. I half slept through church last evening. I couldn't read and keep up with the video, so I listened and was blessed. Focusing was hard, but then I revived and wrote six hundred words on my novel. I thought it would be in revision by now, but I fail many days to give myself permission to write. I planned a release on my birthday, but I think another month on my anniversary. The writing runs well when I sit. I can't seem to sit.
Soon, though, days will be more warm than cold. I'll be over this infection. Spring will have sprung. I hope and I believe or else I couldn't get through March and the last of winter.