THE CHOICE -edited

Written by: Cyndi MacMillan

Winter consumes. The sun rushes its setting and yet, come morning, it barely rises above the ravaged landscape. I see a world in stasis, endlessly waiting for change. Yesterday, a hundred crows ate the horizon and left its cadaver for the two-legged field mice who scurried down salted sidewalks, quivering. This season is relentless. First, it appears distant, unwanted, but safe and vaguely familiar. Then, it builds trust with that first gentle snow fall, that diamond crust that seems to calm our frantic pace. Eventually, it pierces the heart and enters the mind. Spring seems so far away, so ... impenetrable, so improbable.  

sirens’ wails
stowaway on the wind –
a sign twists

Things change, we change. Many have more than I, but countless others have less. I’d been thinking of the homeless, the outreach programs, when I hear the firetrucks. From my window, I watch them approach. I discover that fire is destroying a lowrise just down the street. A desperate mother has tossed her children from a third floor window. One is seriously injured, may not survive. I hear the news, blink back tears and then go to my daughter’s room. She is so small on the double bed. I pull a blanket over her, hover, unwilling to leave. Tomorrow, we’ll make snow angels, brush snow off her favorite tree, get pink cheeked. A crocus has bloomed, a recognition of blessings. Perhaps, spring is not just a season after all. Maybe, spring is a choice, as well. 

*Prayers sent out to the 19 month old girl who is listed in critical condition, to her parents and to all those who have lost their homes and  belongings.