The Winter Sticks

Its now February and my heart is in a few scattered places. One piece is definitely here where I sit; a dark living room at 6:45 in the morning, wondering how well she sleeps. She is beyond patient. Another piece is with my family and particularly my father, whose loving voice bleeds into my thoughts. He is well by all accounts but i miss him. He worries for me. Beside him is my mother. She is feeling the days pass, not merely witnessing, and it frightens her. My sister and niece are gaining momentum. They move along together. My friends in Emporia keep a piece of me, as they hasten their departure. They are not lost but they believe they are.

The winter has been harsh. It has brought with it trouble the likes of which i have not dealt with before. It is not a crushing defeat, but its not easy either. So for the first time I dream of the April sun to mark another year not dead and the possibility that my heart, strewn across the state of Kansas, is no less whole in their hands.