Inside

I still have a strong sense of how I felt, as a child, about being safe and warm inside my house when the weather was unforgiving.  If I left a bike or a toy outside before a storm, I would stare out the window in regret and worry until the storm passed.  It got to the point where, if I knew a storm was coming, I would haul every object I could find into the safety of the house, much to my mother's annoyance.  I just wanted everyone and everything to be sheltered and cozy.

I braved the cold and wind today to meet an old friend for lunch in a nearby town.  Did some errands coming and going.  As the afternoon progressed, the wind got stronger and the air got colder.  By the time I got home, I was feeling like that child again.  I was so grateful to be settled into my home, with no reason to go out again until Friday, when it might get up to 30 degrees.  I looked sadly out at the birdfeeder, wanting to invite its patrons into the house.  Fortunately, it quickly got dark, and they went to wherever they go when darkness falls.  Out of sight, out of mind.

Does everyone feel this need to be sheltered and warm?  Obviously, we all would rather be comfortable than cold and wet.  But does everyone else feel the need as strongly as I do?  Again, my childhood memories remind me that I could not go to sleep until I had covered every doll and stuffed animal I owned with a blanket that was folded lovingly just beneath their chins.

Inside.  Warm and cozy.  The winds tonight will gust up to 25 mph, creating a wind chill factor of -15 degrees.

I'll ply the fire with kindling,
pull the blankets to my chin
I'll lock the vagrant winter out
and bolt my wanderings in

Joni Mitchell penned those words in her song Urge for Going, an old favorite of mine.  While I will admit to an urge for going, I am also content . . . and in love with . . . being inside.