Written by readersubmissions
When you receive a nice warm hug, you never want to let go. There is also a way coldness can wrap around you and never want to let go of you, no matter what you try. Certain feelings stick around longer than others; heartbreak, the stun of seeing your favorite band, or even the way chlorine stays in your hair for days, but this is about the way the coldness has wrapped itself around me.
On Being Cold | 14 Oct 17
There’s a type of cold that enters your body and you can’t seem to get rid of it, no matter what you try. It sunk in from the surface of your skin, to the middle of your bones. The last time I remember feeling this cold, I was resting my head on the ice glass window of a bus, watching mountains and evergreen trees pass in the distance, sitting in my maroon hoodie that was layered with a thin black rain jacket I’d only bought a week before back home, and now I was riding on a bus in the pacific northwest. I stretched the sleeves of my hoodie to the tips of my fingers and dug them between my thighs, my legs crossed at the ankles, and both my jackets zipped to the neck. My tiredness seeped deeper along with the chills. Headphones dug into my ears, and the words seeped into my mind, and a humming through my body. My mind and my heart were warm and content, I was in a beautiful new place, but the coldness distracted me and kept me focused on my body. The tips of my toes curled, barely feeling the socks wrapped around them, both them and the shoes failing to keep in the warmth.
The coldness of this day didn’t begin on the bus. From the moment we walked out of the hotel at 6:50 am to the train, I could see my breath. But I wasn’t focused on the coldness of my body yet, I was focused on the quiet morning of Seatac and the moon that still rested silently in the sky, scattered stars, and a beautiful sunrise forming above the city. I cherished walking this sidewalk for the last time, though we only were there for three days. I listened to the few cars hum by, and the rolling of our suitcases behind us. I watched the moon as she watched us, and we boarded the first train to get to the Chinatown district, where we’d wander, finding the mysterious spot on the side of the street where a bus would pick us up and drive us to our second stop of the trip, Portland. Just in three hours, I’d be in a new place for another three days of adventure. We stood on the sidewalk with about twenty others, and the coldness was more noticable. Walking on to the bus, the air felt warmer, but you could tell there was no heat. I felt like I was still standing outside waiting for the bus with the crisp air.
Even when we got to Portland, we rode the train to get our rental car. A cold train. We waited for the trains, in the cold. When we got our rental car, the heat was turned on, but it wasn’t enough to warm my bones. We watched the pastel pink, orange, and blue sun set in Corbett, Oregon, and my mind couldn’t fathom that I was here. In Oregon. Watching the sun set. Distracted from my cold bones.
Later in the night at the hotel, I wrapped myself in the crisp and clean hotel bed blankets and rested my head now on a soft, but a little too firm, pillow, and slept away the coldness in my bones.
Even when we got to Portland, we rode the train to get our rental car. A cold train. We waited for the trains, in the cold. When we got our rental car, the heat was turned on, but it wasn’t enough to warm my bones. We watched the pastel pink, orange, and blue sun set in Corbett, Oregon, and my mind couldn’t fathom that I was here. In Oregon. Watching the sun set. Distracted from my cold bones.
Later in the night at the hotel, I wrapped myself in the crisp and clean hotel bed blankets and rested my head now on a soft, but a little too firm, pillow, and slept away the coldness in my bones.
On Being Cold | 1 Feb 18
Why I wrote about the last time I felt this cold was because tonight I felt this coldness again. The cold didn’t just seep into the middle of my bones, but by the end of the day, it worked its way to my brain.
I woke and stumbled into the bathroom at 7:50 am, and I could hear birds chirping from the bathroom as I did my morning routine. I thought how it must be at least 30 degrees this morning. The birds seemed happy.
At the back door we keep a thermometer, and it reads below 10. Not the weather I’d imagined. Today, I layered a striped sweater-like t-shirt under an orange sweater and a brown corduroy jacket, which is not meant to keep me toasty warm in this single digit weather. Yet, I wore just that. I thought I wouldn’t feel too cold wearing what I chose, but the breeze proved me wrong. It sunk into my mind that below 10 degrees is cold, and even though there have been warmer days lately, it doesn’t mean today is warm. Guess I thought I could be immune to the cold or something.
Later in the day, I added a huge fuzzy scarf that I’d wrap my hands in and play with mindlessly the rest of the night. Even flopping it around like I was teasing a bull, and sharing the scarfs blanket qualities to keep the hands of my friends warm. I went to the art museum with some friends this afternoon and we wandered the photography exhibit first, and my heart was captured among each and every photo, my mind frozen in each moment. I noticed the coldness left my body as I began to feel the uncomfortable warmth on my neck where my scarf sat.
Driving to our next stop for the night, we passed under a bridge where swings hung from. The swings hung empty, cold, and still. They seemed to be calling, you could hear it in the wind. The air carried the faint cries of the empty swings and the cold chains wanting to be used after sitting alone all winter. We parked our car and skipped across the street, where we created movement, warmth, and happiness in an area that before seemed too remote to enter. Though the cold eventually rushed us back to the car.
I woke and stumbled into the bathroom at 7:50 am, and I could hear birds chirping from the bathroom as I did my morning routine. I thought how it must be at least 30 degrees this morning. The birds seemed happy.
At the back door we keep a thermometer, and it reads below 10. Not the weather I’d imagined. Today, I layered a striped sweater-like t-shirt under an orange sweater and a brown corduroy jacket, which is not meant to keep me toasty warm in this single digit weather. Yet, I wore just that. I thought I wouldn’t feel too cold wearing what I chose, but the breeze proved me wrong. It sunk into my mind that below 10 degrees is cold, and even though there have been warmer days lately, it doesn’t mean today is warm. Guess I thought I could be immune to the cold or something.
Later in the day, I added a huge fuzzy scarf that I’d wrap my hands in and play with mindlessly the rest of the night. Even flopping it around like I was teasing a bull, and sharing the scarfs blanket qualities to keep the hands of my friends warm. I went to the art museum with some friends this afternoon and we wandered the photography exhibit first, and my heart was captured among each and every photo, my mind frozen in each moment. I noticed the coldness left my body as I began to feel the uncomfortable warmth on my neck where my scarf sat.
Driving to our next stop for the night, we passed under a bridge where swings hung from. The swings hung empty, cold, and still. They seemed to be calling, you could hear it in the wind. The air carried the faint cries of the empty swings and the cold chains wanting to be used after sitting alone all winter. We parked our car and skipped across the street, where we created movement, warmth, and happiness in an area that before seemed too remote to enter. Though the cold eventually rushed us back to the car.
My heart was little, taken back to the days when I swung in my backyard, shutting my eyes to watch the colors of red and orange flash in a different world, and little did I know it was just the way I saw the light of the sun when I closed my eyes. Those days, I felt warm breezes through my hair and on my skin. Tonight, the cold air numbed my hands. 9 degrees. I swung, giving all my might to make the heavy chained swing go a little higher. “Am I even that high?” My words formed a cloud in front of me, and I wondered if my voice even left my mouth. With all my effort, I leaned my body back flat and heaved it back up to get me as high as I could. My hands were numb. I felt a little more of the cold seeming to drip into my pores, putting an icing around my bones that would last the rest of the night.
Driving home after the night out, my mind sunk into the cold, drifting from the day where my heart was happy for awhile, now longed for the stars in the sky and a warm bed, where I could wrap my feet in my blankets and sleep the coldness away again.
Driving home after the night out, my mind sunk into the cold, drifting from the day where my heart was happy for awhile, now longed for the stars in the sky and a warm bed, where I could wrap my feet in my blankets and sleep the coldness away again.
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