the run.

woke up early this morning to go running.

first time in weeks, actually. i've been slogging through december without much exercise, and i know that my body and soul need me to start moving again. so i chose this pristine winter morning to do it.

it was about 30 degrees out, with low clouds in the sky and the sun barely peeking through the trees. it comes out later here, goes down earlier--i forgot that. somehow 7 o'clock seems like a misnomer, as if mother nature forgot to wind her watch.

this is rural massachusetts, here where my in-laws live. there are cows in very large yards that double as farms, and acres of land for one house. trees everywhere, ponds and rivers and streams still running in this warm december air. flashes of red as cardinals make their way through the sky, their brown-gold mates close behind.

there is majesty in the stillness. there is drama in the fallen trees, barren of leaves, hit hard by the halloween snowstorm a couple months back. this is a story i heard about, read about--it is not my story. this is not my town. not even my state.

funny how the locals here sing praises about the warmth of the winter so far, while my california children and i pray for snow to accumulate in piles around us. at this point, we'd give anything for fat, happy snowflakes in the air, just floating down for us to catch on our tongues.

forty years old, and still waiting for the first snow to come.

something still about this terrain that is singed into me, branded into my skin. i cannot escape the calm and peace that this landscape brings me. it is still the home that hangs around my neck, like a necklace from my best friend in the world. it is the home that shelters all the thoughts and wishes and hopes of the future. it's the home that takes precious little time to remind me of what i am missing when i am so far away.

i'm not sad today. i'm really not. just so grateful for a morning spent with my body moving again, listening to the sounds of the world around me, alternating between live bird calls and the roots on my ipod. hearing this song called "fire" that seals the deal.

my red cheeks are my badge of honor this morning. the cold slices my skin but comforts it at the same time. the beauty of the incongruousness is a wonder to behold.

aspire.

in school this past week my daughter was part of a discussion in her classroom about superheroes.

the kids all went around the circle, talking about what they would choose for their power. a lot of kids said they would fly. a few said they would be invisible. some kids talked about changing into animals.

when it was my girl's turn, she simply said, "i don't want any superhero powers. i just want to be myself."

as the days tick closer to my fortieth birthday, i think of this moment, and realize that i want to be just like her when i grow up.

inked

going to get my birthday tattoo tonight.

what is it that makes me walk into a shop and sit down and willingly wound myself for a statement? why do i need the permanency of a picture on my body?

its curious.

tonight i hope to invite a spider to rest on my wrist for the rest of my life, with her web underneath where my veins lay blue and twisted. i know she is the right choice. i can feel her pulling herself into me, as i wait for my night to begin.

and to make it more clear, there is now a spider spinning a web from the star on our xmas tree.

i know there are a lot of people getting tattoos out there, and a whole lot more who can't understand why the hell i am doing it. my husband, for one. i know that he quite actively dislikes it, but tries his best to find his way to at least appreciate my decision. i am grateful to him for that.

my parents can't fathom why i would want to. my grandfather couldn't stand it, and told me so.

and i admit there is a part of me that is still searching for the reason why i choose to go under the needle, but the fact is i need to tell the story of my life. it turns out that words alone don't quite do it for me; or at least words on paper. the finality of letters and images on my skin doesn't scare me, it soothes me. it makes me feel like a real live girl. makes me feel that each twinge of pain as i deep breathe through the color is reminding me that i am awake, and right where i need to be.

and yet at the same time reminding me of where i've been and who i used to be.

there is a seriousness to all of this, isn't there? and there damn well should be, since i can't erase it. but there is also a part of this that reminds of being a kid, and drawing on my skin with markers, and delighting in how fancy my body could look with all of that art.

turns out it still makes me really happy.

this month

december is the prettiest month.

this i am fairly sure of.  it may have to do with all the lights about and the sparkliness of the season, but i feel that it goes deeper than all of that superficial stuff.

i think its more about the quiet of the nights, the ease of the blackness that sneaks earlier and earlier into the daytimes.  there is deep beauty in the stillness of the cold air.  there is majesty in the breath of air that i can actually see.

i won't speak of snow yet, or the bracing cold that shivers my skin down deep, because i am only speaking of the december that is here with me now.  soon enough i will visit the december of my childhood, and that is an entirely different experience.  the prettiness becomes laced with the emotion of back home, and there is more bittersweet there than i can properly speak of at this moment.

this december is bringing me a momentous number to claim.  my fortieth birthday is a few weeks away, and the days are passing by while i cross them off on the calendar, knowing that my own personal countdown is both buoying me up and sinking me fast.

i'm determined not to go too deep with the sinking, i promise.

i keep telling myself that this time should only be filled with celebration for this life well lived thus far.
i keep telling myself that i deserve a kick-ass tattoo to commemorate the day.
i keep telling myself that i am worthy of the number, and yet that the number is nothing to notice.
i keep telling myself that i am what forty looks like.
i keep telling myself that i am almost halfway through, except that i'm planning to live until i'm 100, so that's not really true...

it really doesn't matter.  i know it doesn't.  it really doesn't matter at all.

i am thankful that i am here right now, in this early december evening, knowing that there is something about wintertime that makes me glow from within, something that is illuminated behind my eyes throughout this entire season.  this is true.

december is good to me.