“People always mean well. They cluck their thick tongues, and shake their heads and suggest, oh, so very delicately.”
The snow came pretty early this year….and so did the rain….standard oceanside weather. We got our first snowman made and our tree up….
Born February 16th, with a black grease mop parted to perfection, at a rotund and gluttonous 10 lbs 3 oz, it was immediately apparent that Saparmurayat Niyazov had reentered the world in the form of our daughter. Though we were defiant in our assuredness that our nurturing could undo nature and deter the little bundle from despotism, we nonetheless relented to nature a bit and declared her, and her birth month formerly referred to as February: May. There was also a pleasant alphabetic economy to it considering her mother is Amy. Might as well ration now as I could see by the glint in her eye that she would soon make illegal all excess letters and numbers.
The air will be full of soft enveloping salt and fat. Whole milk will work over hard flakes. Heat will emanate in rough rectangles out of the toaster. Invisible towers of condensation will obscure the window while I stand and wait. Out there, I will see bittersweet branches brought low by precarious piles of snow. Blue jays will bloat against the smoldering cold. Birds yesterday flew wildly against the choke of vines and berries. Birds today big and blue and still. Birds tomorrow torn apart by three black cats. Their transparent temperament tells the temperature. There is a frozen city for no man. Here is the heat of deceivers and the light of self-deception. I peanut butter toast.