Yesterday our warm spell began to bleed away. The warmth bled out of the landscape.
There is a cold spell coming and it will last until I leave here. We will be below freezing for a week. Fair enough. I am off to the Southern Hemisphere in a week where it is warm. I can deal with the cold for a week. And it is rising again as I leave so hopefully John and Jake will not have too hard a time of it. When it freezes we carry water in buckets again. And a week of that will be good for me!
I am at that stage now (I always do this before I go away) where I am unduly careful. I live in horror of stabbing myself in the eye with a flying knife as I open a bag of feed, or falling off the top of the rickety barn ladder onto the cold barn floor below or being kicked across the quad by a cow. Or an ice storm or poltergeist visit or a tornado. Or a massive storm that prevents me getting to the airport. Or someone has a heart attack or a brain tumour or a car accident. Well, you get the picture. I am now plagued with terror that I will not reach my children. That something will stop me from seeing them and touching them. And sit with them for a while. I am that close.
This fear does not relax until I am at the Gate for my last flight. And there are four flights before I reach my daughter. As I travel which takes a couple of days I will slide down into the bubble zone where I move calmly and gently with no sudden movements or risky cornering, gliding through almost without speaking – just watching, just reading, almost absent, no influence on my surroundings at all, no risk of breaking the bubble, no deviating from my course, total low energy mode – like this I will travel the almost 10,000 miles (15,000 k) to Melbourne.
But when I reach that arrival lounge at my destination I snap awake like a Christmas cracker. Bam. Ready to go.
But not for a week. We have seven days.
(I have to resist this Bubble Zone descending upon me until I get into the car that will take me to the Chicago Airport. Packing when in the bubble zone is never that successful).
I hope you have a lovely day.
celi
63 responses to “Bleeding Warmth”
Celi, I am a fan of scenario planning – think the worst, prepare for it and then it never happens.