Nancy Machlis Rechtman

Outside the Snow Globe
 
I’ve always thought
That I hated winter
Because of the stinging cold tentacles
Spreading through my veins until my blood stopped moving
Every time I stepped outside.
The vicious winds would seek me out
And rip right through me
And after a few steps I would freeze in place
Like Lot’s wife
But she was salt
And I was ice
Either way, I became a pillar.
 
It has become so easy
To close my door
And close off my life
From the world pounding outside my window
And instead, curl up by the fireplace
With my book
And a steaming cup of chamomile tea
As my cat makes sounds like a motorboat at my feet.
 
Sometimes I still dream of a man to curl up with
Under the blankets
But I’ve realized that having no one to talk to
Or be with
Is preferable to the pain
That once buried me like an avalanche.
 
There are times I do have to venture out
When contact with the outside world is necessary
And I can’t avoid getting knocked around in the snow globe
But usually those occasions are fleeting
And they are the moments when I understand
Why I hate winter the way I do.
And I promise myself that one day I’ll move to a place
Where the sun always warms the soul
And palm trees dot the landscape like hands raised in supplication
And the rhythm of the ocean tide is my prayer.
 
I notice the fire is dying
And I need to find another log to resuscitate it
And I need to find another blanket to burrow under
Feeling safe only when it’s wrapped around me
Like I’m newly born
And I can forget for a moment
That I will soon have to face the world again.

 

Nancy Machlis Rechtman has had poetry and short stories published in Your Daily Poem, The Whisky Blot, Grande Dame, Impspired, Trouvaille Review, Fresh Words, The Writing Disorder, Discretionary Love, and more. She wrote freelance lifestyle stories for a local newspaper, and she was the copy editor for another paper. She writes a blog called Inanities at https://nancywriteon.wordpress.com.