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Thawing The Heart By Susan Gibbons Email: SGibbonsIA at msn dot com (above email address formatted to reduce spam) December 25, 2007 One step outside, On a below zero day. My skin tightens. A swift, shallow inhalation. My lungs fill slightly, Quickly. Exhilerating. The oxegen is thin. It smells of ice. The car radio comes on. A sad, never ending song. The warming air Closes around me. Like a homemade sweater. Knit with memories. The icicle in the corner of my eye melts. A tear is pulled down my cheeks. Moisture falls onto my downy coat. It is salty and warm. So much to melt. Slowly. Very slowly. Healing is warm. Peacefully painful. On a bitter, winter day, The heart is thawed. About the author: I write a mix of fact and fiction, just to keep my friends guessing. I just started working with senior citizens and realized I have a lot left to do, so I'll have a good story to tell my grandchildren one day. | | | |
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