americanized americans spell things with z and speak in fahrenheit. i have started to do one of these things, but looking outside and marveling at sixty degrees is not one i see myself doing any time soon.
when the sun comes out in february in the north east, everything changes. suddenly, shorts and vests are mandatory regardless of the breeze, and footballs spin past girls spinning each other. suddenly, yellow track pants are made brighter by the sun, and three people bounce on a slack line tied between trees. sixty degrees and the world is right again, complete with music and longboards.
being outside feels like children laughing; things are lighter somehow, and even the boys throwing a baseball between themselves seem not to take themselves too seriously. it’s not easy to look up when the promise of more is as fleeting as that of sun in february.
people pass by and the breeze blows through them, and the two sitting on the slack line continue to squat on it. it’s purim. things are right.
love and light,