The Up and Coming is a Starry Dispatch from This Current
Solid grey and everywhere to be seen. Desperate-for-rusting mufflers cough and choke out the day’s commute, second-handing our smoke over to us as the solid cloud sky drips and spits and spews in sessions murky rainwater, full on as a sprinter, in bursts though, running older and lower on energy, so that now and again the rain will almost stop, just before getting another wind and coming torrential as possible again. The cement streets, sidewalks, buildings and even trees without leaves lingering dead from a city’s winter, everything is grey. And begging for a change, the school kids and cyclists and street lights all try and call out with their bright colors, but a foggy spring coating proves them nearly futile.
The starch reality of today’s situation sits like a beer gut on an Olympic hopeful with six months of training ahead of him. Sure, six months could be enough, given the right workout and dedication, but lets face it, the first few weeks are the hardest and seem like they’ll never end. That’s why so many people are out of shape; once you get there, you stay there. And similarly, that’s why Winter holds on so long, but luckily nature will force itself to ship up and get us back into the realm of every day outside lifestyles. Smoky dark bars will turn into afternoon patios. Shopping for presents online will give way to browsing local bazaars. Ordering in will pass in favor of walking to the local pizza shop. It’s all a matter of time progressing, but the patience part can be too much.
And patience, ye Bible fairing knowledgists should know, is the annoying step-sister of the Three Virtues. Where hope promises for a better day than this one, faith allows us to accept the unexplainable and charity is just darned nice, patience makes us sit on hard benches waiting for buses, grovel in the broken of our hearts and our food cool as Grandma prays for each and every one of her 58 grandchildren around the Thanksgiving table.
But let’s face it, we all want some fixin’s and where Spring is the mashed potatoes and time the long arm of the law, let’s just hope we get to at least wipe our mouth’s on its sleeve in the end.