Anxiously Awaiting

I'm anxiously awaiting spring. That's right, I said it - I want spring to come!

I'm still a fan of winter. I love the brisk air on my face and the liberating feel of the chill, keeping me awake and alive to feel the world around me. Summer days are perceived to be hot and sticky, the sun luring you to nap and sleep and, if you want to be active, go lye on the beach and soak in rays while listening to the water clash about. This has it's unique beauty; I'm just not a fan of humidity and extreme heat.

As I slosh around in the city and journey over and around snow piles stacked to the hilt, I am feeling a bit leery - I've walked this street so many times and yet I STILL manage to slip and slide in the exact SAME places. I STILL manage to get a foot or two stuck in the exact SAME snow holes. I STILL manage to step in the exact SAME puddle of ice, snow, and dirt. Feel free to capture a mental picture here if wish: Ryan, twisting and gyrating, bending and kicking, ass down and legs up while transit buses swerve, cars honk, and people giggle. I laugh, too. The lower body gets a work out while the feet cry for relief. I wish I could say help was immanent or right around the corner. It may very well be, but I won't be betting on that here in Chicago.

The brisk air of winter is still hitting a sweet spot, conjuring up a sense of aliveness and energy. At the same time, the feet are being drug through a messy winter-land. I want to yell, "hang in there, feet, you'll be complaining about the hot sand soon enough!" I want spring to come, and stay throughout the summer.