by Zee bo Bee
(This one's for all of "those" days)
Its was cold last night.
And not the kind of cold that comes from turning your air-conditioning down the lowest it can go and leaving it on all day... Those days when the temperature outside rises so high that even the moths who visit your window - battering their wings on the glass leaving trails of silver dust - are too lethargic to emerge from their holes and so you turn on the air-conditioning and lock yourself in.
But it's not that kind of cold.
It's the cold that makes you shiver. And not just any shiver that comes with just any sort of cold. It's the shiver that rocks your body - though not in a good way - so that it feels almost as if the trembling has extended deep into your core.
"My bones are shivering," I will insist, if there was anyone to insist to. "It's not me! It's the bones."
I toss and I turn and I try to get warm. I draw my comforters into a protective cocoon around me. I curl up into a fetal position. I press the lengths of my body against one of my pillows. I rub my feet with my fingers. But it's still cold. I don't bother though, turn up the temperature of my thermostat. The air is too warm for that and it would only make me sweaty and uncomfortable.
Besides, it's not that kind of cold.
It was still cold when I opened my eyes in the morning, and not the kind of cold that makes your windows fog up because you've had the air-conditioning on at it's lowest setting for the past 24 hours. I am not fully awake, but I am not about to drag myself back into slumber as well, and so I just lie there.
I do get up though, eventually, and make my way to the bathroom. The afternoon sun is stuffy and hot but it is still cold as I brush my teeth, as I peel off my nightshirts and stand under the searing hot showers. I pull on my clothes, the shortest, thinnest I can find.
"My bones need the sun to keep warm!" I will say, if there is someone to say it to. "It's not me. It's the bones!"
I head out of the house and straight for the car. But before I can get there I feel arms wrapping themselves around me.
"Strong arms, gentle arms, warm arms. "
I close my eyes and savour the sensation.
"Familliar arms, safe arms."
I can almost make out every detail on them, every pore, every hair, the beautiful brown colour of skin that is tanned "just-right".
"Imaginary arms..."
I get into the car and wave into the rear view mirror as I drive off. The air-conditioning is broken and moisture has already begun to form on my brow, my chest and the small of my back. I smile at the figure that keeps getting smaller and smaller, maybe because I keep driving further and further away. And I smile.
"Imaginary smile..."
My eyes are blurry from the sweat and I can almost feel my tires melting on contact with the road.The thermostat says that the temperature is rising to somewhere over 30.
It is still cold.
PEACE OUT
