Ascension

First day of February, and in the far corner of the yard the Adirondack chair, blown over by the wind at Christmas, is still on its back, the snow too deep for me to traipse out and right it, the ice too sheer to risk slamming these old bones to the ground. In a hospital bed in her room where her bed used to be, and her husband, my Aunt Millie keeps reaching up for the far corner of the room, whispering That is so interesting.I will go now. In April I will walk out across the warming grass, and right the chair as if there had never been anything to stop me in the first place, listening for the buzz of hummingbirds which reminds me of how fast things are capable of moving.