I am the weathermaker
A short on bracing the elements outside oneself
Some days, you must work against the elements: lean forward into gusts of sleet, hold your hands against your eyes, squint through cracks in your fingers, and still get frozen rain in your eyelashes. Your nose hairs harden from the temperature, soften from the inner breath on exhale, and harden again while breathing in.
Some days are like this for parents. The screeching seasonal carousel toy plays out of sync with its bass, and the word-limited baby whines for help while the new-schooler demands you read the next page of Where The Wild Things Are. I must work against the family elements. Push forward.
Except, here, I am the weathermaker. I set pressure systems. I can adjust our forecast. Some days, I forget. Those days, I’m cold. Some days, I remember in time to know I was never setting our temperatures alone. Those days, I collapse onto my other half - nose into his chest to find warmth. Easy breathing.
Soundtrack:
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You are indeed a woman who can cook up a storm