Hot Air

I'm sick. I'm sick and it's balmy. Everyone at work says the two things are related. I stand there, unable to breathe through my nose, and my co-workers have all the reasons. "Is it allergies?" asks my COO. "It's the weather," says our IT director. I don't know. I lay in bed yesterday, laptop and cat held close, listening to kids play outside. Something about this change of seasons, or maybe being sick in breezy warm air, is very evocative for me. Memories trickle in that have been hidden for a long time. I'm in high school, walking up to Cobbs Hill after school, lighting a cigarette. Watching "I Love Lucy" in the summer on the 14-inch black and white set. Now I'm in college, sitting in someone's kitchen, pulling food out of the CSA box. Working with my advisor. Biking into Amherst. In the car with my boyfriend. Now it's springtime. I'm a kid, and I'm petting my dog. I walk down the street where I grew up.

I think there are special times of the year when time disappears. Or I disappear into time.

I have to pull myself out of dreamland, though. I'm giving big presentations every day for the next five business days, and teaching class both days this weekend, so being "off" isn't an option.