As I sit huddled under an old family heirloom afghan
(can you even remember the last time a blanket was referred to as an ‘afghan’?)
hot tea keeping one hand, then the other, warm while I change them up to type and swipe,
the view out the window parallels my position.
In-between.
It started with heavy clouds as the sky began to dimly light with the suggestion of the suns presence.
On the rising lights’ heels came barely perceptible showers
just enough to suggest discoloration of the roads and sidewalks as cars streamed by on their way to work.
It didn’t take long though for the full force of the storm to descend.
Rain.
Snow.
Mix.
Sleet I believe is its proper name.
An in-between weather condition.
In between rain and snow.
Creating in between ground conditions;
not wet
not white and downy snow
slush.
This is redolent of where we are; John and I.
in-between.
Washington but also Kentucky.
America but still Australia.
In between.
Like sleet hitting the window
looking like rain
then sticking like snow
so are we
looking like Washingtonians,
while becoming Kentuckians.
Finishing Australia while re-becoming American.
Sometimes the in-betweens are the most difficult conditions to withstand.
And yet
in them is promise
anticipation
of a change.
in love.
trish