January Chills –

by Barbara Cagle

When the holiday rush has ended and the lights are packed away a feeling of sadness encroaches on my days. The sky still looks as if snow might fall, although I know it is a rare occurrence in Florida, where I live, but I can still wish for the frosty flakes as I stare out the window.
The temperature can drop suddenly from comfortable sunny warmth to a bone chilling cold, so sweaters and jackets stand at the ready, like so many soldiers guarding the front hall. As I don my jacket and open the door the scent of the morning frost, crisp and cool and carrying the last molecules of the fallen night-blooming jasmine in the pot on the nearby windowsills.
The air exhilarates me as I rush to the car and shiver as the engine warms, the soft purring of the heater finally emitting a musty blast of warm air. I start my journey and within minutes find myself rolling the window partway down in my desire to feel the crisp breeze on my face. My companions on the roadways pass with a puzzled stare as they huddle in their own vehicles against the outside onslaught of cold.
I can feel the air on my face as it brings my cheeks a rosy blush and as I breathe I can see the moist warm air as I exhale. I notice the remnants of the holidays in the store sales racks, displayed on the sidewalk, still and bland in the grayness of the day, waiting for a kind soul to take them home and store them in a warm box until the next holiday comes around, and the January chill fills me with the energy to work through the year in anticipation of the holiday smiles.