They say that Syracuse has two seasons, snow and construction. Some years this is true, but this year seems thus far to be the slow lingering spring that is truly what makes living here such a treat. The snow comes still, I sat in a meeting two days ago and watched as the snow flakes whipped through the air, fat and fluffy. My guy lives on the lake basically so I knew it was coming, he had texted me an hour earlier to tell me that it was snowing. A few minutes later my boss exclaimed, Oh my God it is snowing. The crocus bloomed and have stayed blooming for what seems like two weeks now. The nights are cold and the air is crisp but the sun is shining brightly. The cold rains are not yet bringing flowers but they soak the ground and flood the rivers. At least this area for now has access to free flowing fresh water. A resource we take for granted.
I am home today with two appointments scheduled. But the tension in my body is showing. The fear of job cuts and layoffs and pay cuts looming over the heads of all of us. The tenuous position the arts take in this economic climate. The first to go always, evidence, the dissolution of our excellent symphony orchestra this week, not enough patrons. Budget cuts to local art programs and public television a seeming daily blow, school districts across the region are cutting arts and music programs. Oddly at the same time they are talking about meeting the needs of special education students (a large percentage of which excel in the arts while they need resource in reading in math – we must make sure that we are designing a program which meets their specific needs – oh really have you noticed what those needs are up there in your high rise office?) I realize instantly that I need to carve out time to go to the Zen Center, I need to carve out time to do yoga, and to walk, all things which ease my tension. There is nothing I can do except take care of myself and make sure I am healthy.
I find myself thinking of things to write and sitting down and saying no I don’t want to keep beating this old horse. I don’t want to talk about my new guy and how crazy I am about him, or him me. I don’t want to drag out the issues that weigh on me about my child her universal struggles which are not so much different from my own. This reticence is new to me. Not wanting to spill my guts for strangers in the online world. And yet still a desire to express myself. Journal by my bed full of scribbled late night madness when my computer time is not fulfilled, I wake in a sweat, I must tell it. I must.
It feels good to have the spring coming in so slow. The days only slightly warmer bit by bit, the storms that pass through quickly and frigidly, then the days of heat that tell of the coming warmth and sun and life. The feeling I have of having removed my ice skates and yet still I walk around as though I have them on. The loosening of the laces of this corset that has bound me so tightly, laughing out loud feels good, watching my guy act like a goofy goon and knowing in time he will see this part of me, my shyness and learned behavior of hiding my true self for fear of judgment of criticism, slowly my breath comes in deeper and deeper. I tell him thank you for listening to the difficulties of my day. I promise they are not all difficult, sorry to dump the troubles on you. He looks at me quizzically so what if they are he asks. See I think to myself, that is another hook and eye set free. My daughter belches aloud in front of him and says oh sorry, I wasn’t thinking. His daughter laughs and says my sister can burp way louder than that. Another hook and eye let loose. Do you care if I wear this pair of jeans and a sweatshirt to eat out he asks, no I say you look fine, and what of you I think is there a double standard, am I to wear pointy toed heels and a short skirt to your casual? No. Another hook and eye let loose. You know we don’t have to go out, we could stay in and eat peanut butter and jelly, I just want to be with you. A lace set loose again. Bit by bit. I see now that I never did like wearing that corset. And I cannot figure out why I sometimes miss it. I hold my breath, I suck in my stomach, nope I don’t miss that at all.