Ah Fall. Ah winter. Already my toes are tingeling. I've caught my first cold. The desperate fridged promise of weather to come frosts my window sheild. Spoilt desert rat, the promise of color and change lured me from the dusty embrace of a place that I never wanted to call home. The colors are amazing- green, red,brown. The change is new and exciting. The parents and extended family I call home are overbearing at close range but once I've run I find myself glancing back. Over sholder wishing they'd call me back, back home. It's not like I didn't know what I was getting into. This half of the family is so sharp, so harsh so distant. How the person I love can have not only lived with this but warmed to a wonderful person is beyond my sensibilities. There is nothing in me that wants to hold the nettles of his family tree. My children sometimes cry. Daddy gone in a forign land for a job they can't, don't, won't comprehend. The other Grandma either too distant or FAR too close. So sharp and harsh trying to love with her strange smother.
I dread the ice the white the cold. The wind that blasts into the bones. But I wish for snow angles, snow men, and that magical glimmer of frozen morning so I've come to a place that's as close to a forign land a I can manage just yet. For color, for change, for the very same winder I dread.