FIRE AND ICE

January’s dedicated to John, – “It works!”

From the flash of “pre-order” to “THE END,” fire and ice consumed my worlds; my reading world and my non-reading world.

Fire began a mere flicker when a favorite author announced a new release date. I pre-ordered craving exciting snippets of time before dark slumber, a distraction from mindless chatter and thorny mundane tasks. The new hot water heater needed repair and the new furnace underperformed during one of the worst cold spells in a decade.

The flicker sparked, ignited by the prospect of a good read, time away from the icy weather. Tucked under my comforter cocooned in fleece, polyester and feathers, I engaged in action on the page, where there’s no room for wind chill factors and home repair costs. With the awaited book between my fingers, the inspired fire from the heart of the author bellowed the ember in my soul melting my chilled chambers.

What did a defective hot water heater thermostat and dull furnace matter under the welcome of a good read? Electricity, amen for heat in a wire, prevailed in directing light onto the pages and shining my light within.

Love.

Pure love existed between the pages and me – a love affair propped upon my pillow. What’s this? My heart trembled in pessimistic grief. The novel is half finished!

My pace slowed like winterized sap. I embarked on taking frequent breaks between pages – straightening my To Be Read pile, starting a load of laundry and grabbing a few extra drags on the Seneca Smokes. I lingered, procrastinated in an attempt to repel the freezing winds from blowing over the magic blanket of a reader’s delight – warm, cozy contentment.

But the cold would return. An emptiness of literary entertainment, an eminent farewell before winter re-chilled my bones, my flesh and my snow-bird dreams. At least until April, when tepid rain will thaw Earth and when the next book in the series will be released.

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