Head lowered and eyes closed, my hands splayed for balance, my fingers feel the rough lines of grouting in the smooth tile of the wall. I marvel in its continued coolness under the fleshy pads of my palm and fingertips even as the hot, hot water of the shower crashes down on the sore muscles of a body that has somehow slept crookedly for the second night in a row. The muscles had tightened to the point that I was walking nearly hunch-back this morning, it was so unforgiving. The pulsating jets of the shower are tiny sharp heated needles rapidly, consistently, sadistically beating at the knot in my shoulder-blade. Tentatively flexing and relaxing the muscle, knowing it is going to hurt, a lot, and it does, I do it anyway and moan in masochistic pleasure as I feel the first microscopic synapse of relief. Another moan comes, but this time it is not me.
The classic totems of March, the lion and the lamb, duke it out for supremacy of today’s weather. A harsh wind tears around the sharp brick corner of my building. Somewhere in the near distance, a neighbor loses a lid to a trash can, the crashing metal as starling as thunder in the otherwise quietness of the early morning save for the wind. Its low moan steadily increases into a roar, thrashing against the window. Safely ensconced inside for now, its making its presence known, letting me know I won’t be for much longer. The first hints of that potential chill striking my forearm as I let my fingers trace along the surface of grout line until it strikes the polished surface of the cabinet. Reaching out a little more, my fingers find my towel and I sink my nails into the nubs of soft thick pile. I’m rewarded with a whiff of flora from the fabric softener as I quickly wrap its plushness around me.
Yesterday’s lovely temperatures may have been the lamb’s day, but as I wrapped the soft cotton of the scarf around my neck a little tighter when I stepped outside this morning, I know today definitely belongs to the lion.
In a different Two Writing Teachers challenge we’re invited to Write Without Sight it was too good of a prompt to not try, and it’s my slice for today.