Ducks Swim
The cold air made her car cough. She followed the same path daily. Up the curvy road, over the hill, past the farm stand. Overnight, the temperatures had dipped to below zero. Even the pavement seemed harder. It occurred to her, just briefly, that nothing could live under such circumstances. Of course she knew that was absurd. Here she was breathing, driving. Still, the confinement of her coat—the static electricity of her scarf—made it all seem so plodding and old. It would be so much easier, wouldn’t it, to give in to hypothermia—that sweet, dark sleep? Before leaving the house, she had seen a cardinal in a backyard tree. A male—deep red against the snow. “Aren’t you cold?” she called through window. She stared a long time at its tiny body tucked neatly between branches of a Norway Spruce. Not a single feather shivered. Not one. And then, driving on that familiar road, she looked to her right and noticed a stream just beyond the local farm stand. Why hadn’t she noticed it before? And there upon it swam three ducks, happy and quacking and on with their day—as if it were just that—another day.
Comments
Yes! That is exactly the feeling I wanted to convey. Thanks for the comment. I just woke up to another four inches of snow outside, but as my neighbor said, “We’re one more day closer to spring.”
Jan 19 January 09
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“Here she was breathing, driving. Still, the confinement of her coat—the static electricity of her scarf—made it all seem so plodding and old.”
This is a feeling familiar to me Jan…on these days of negative windchills (with the snow piled high on the sides of the street, covered in soot), I sometimes feel that humans aren’t meant to be inhabiting this part of the earth.
Nora Brown 18 January 09