February 5, 2010
I’d really rather be in Antigua. I am not in the mood to step out in to the cold. Skiing and ice skating are fun, but do I have to move off the radiator I am pressed next to in order to stay warm enough- warm enough to endure another month or two of winter?
I have the long detailed fantasy about a retreat I take in to a cave.
Yeah, a cave. A sacred, secret, no dinner preparations or wash to fold retreat where I can sleep, dream and bathe in hot mineral bathes to my hearts’ content. A long winter’s nap, now that we have taken down the Christmas tree. No one really needs me that much here at home this month. They are all in the swing of winter dressing, lunches and homework. They would hardly notice my absence.
And there I would be, warmly ensconced in soft robes, lost in a dream while some kind being tends to my every need without any conversation necessary.
Growing up in the quintessential winter wonderland, I never really understood people who went South. That is until I myself grew up a bit, sophisticated to the point where I found myself under a palm tree instead of a pine and let those tropical breezes soothe away my chapped cheeks and chilled fingertips.
This collage is my invitation to the Cave.