Aimless Thoughts: Rocky Roads Coda

I’m outside at midnight, hands in my pockets, because Artemis had to piss. Icy snow crunches beneath her paws. The only other sound is the only music anyone ever made in Oshkosh, the ceaseless industrial hum. Faint out here, but still audible on quiet nights. The thumping groans of distant quarries, junkyards and cloud machines, a sound I’d love to escape but couldn’t possibly sleep without.

Lily kept the door wide open for me. From this angle you can make out the threshold in exact detail; the precise moment in space when graphite winter night gives way to the warm, burnt-orange glow of lights reflecting off wood panels. It’s the only color in sight. I faintly recall learning in eighth grade French that their word for door is “porte”. Artemis pulls the leash tense.

The dog runs us along paths loosely dusted with snow. She keeps running til the house stops blocking the wind, then she barks and runs straight back to the door. I let her in and take a last look at the sidewalk and the driveway. Wind’s undone some of my work. The harsh lines wrought by my shovel had drooped down to low, rotund lumps that slowly thinned the visible path. I’d never bothered to shovel the shitty brick walkway leading to my deck, but tonight I leave deep footprints above it.

        Our Christmas tree, which I’d tossed out on the deck ages ago, had blown over to the top of the stairs during the wind a couple nights back. It’s still a vivid green. Another threshold, another spot of color. Maybe that means something. Then again, maybe I’m just a jackass with a keyboard. I just know I’m happy to be home.