So my sister, recently wrote this really great "note" on Facebook, and I seconded her thoughts! Plus, I've pretty much been MIA lately. What with being back to work one day a week and taking a course to teach at the intermediate level (gr.7-10), plus all the usual, I feel like a chicken "running around with it's head cut off"....which reminds me of something I was going to do about sayings....that will have to be forthcoming, but "don't hold your breath."
Who would have thought that at 4:54 p.m. today, my running nerve would kick in as I flew 80 mph down Highway 271 and took the ramp to 90. I, no doubt, started that fire by skimming through a runners world magazine at lunch today, but it wasn’t until that rush of flying down the highway came that my fate was sealed. And so, 17 minutes later I shut the door to the house and stepped outside in running capris and a T-shirt. Yes, a t-shirt in the middle of February! And during that run, a love letter jostled it's way through my brain…
An ode to February 17, 2011
Here’s to you February 17, you got me to run outside wearing a t-shirt (YES a t-shirt!!) and a silly grin as I toured my neighborhood; the O so quaint and charming ghetto of Euclid, Ohio. I heard 300 hundred birds chirping in the bare trees and got to leap over mud puddles, missing chunks of sidewalk and a shattered oversized plastic football. Sure the run was slow, but my spirits soared. The distinctly ebonic male shout of "Hey white girl" followed by something I couldn't even translate made me pick of the pace, but it wasn't a quickening of fear, but rather annoyance. I'm not running through here so you can shout undecipherable nothings at my back (where do you think we are, Italy? You aren't even tall, tanned and handsome!) But I forgave you for that one because I was close to home and ready to finish strong anyway. So, here’s to you putting a smile on my face, lactic acid in my legs, and this silly little love note in my head!
February 17, you were better to me than any working Thursday ever had a right to be. You were better to me than your neighbor 3 doors down (February 14...that day when love is the last thing I want to hear about) ever had a chance of being. No, it was you, Feb 17, that took me on a date with life. If I could somehow find your face, I would give a kiss right now. It wouldn’t be the sort of lovers kiss you find in old time movies, but it would be more than friendly…it would be the kind of kiss that is followed by the biggest of smiles…the Thank-you kiss. Because thanks to you there is a hope in my heart of spring coming.
Dearest 17th of February, your warm winds hit my face this morning as I parked my car and walked into work. Sure the day started out with a slight headache (what’s new when the weather changes like this), but you greeted me so warmly I couldn’t help but smile. I opened the garage door for a small blast of your sunshine and breeze and was rewarded by a happiness in my heart. I started to love you right then. You never had it easy from me from the beginning. After all, Thursdays are those almost days. You are almost Friday, and almost the end of the work week, and almost my favorite day, but not quite. So today you tried your best and proved the better of me. You, Thursday Feb 17, made me fall in love with you.
February 17, you even have my evening planned out (which is better than some boyfriends I‘ve heard about)…while it isn’t snowboarding (it almost was until you intervened), line dancing, or flying down the highway headed anywhere but here (which my heart keeps begging me to do) it is a plan, and I like plans. There is still that “I forgot to tell you…” text to send, that “where are you now?” phone call to make to mom and dad, and that endless list of cleaning before midnight when the family arrives to accomplish. So you aren’t over yet, but I thank you for the warm spring-like day, that date with my only boyfriend-running, and the thankfulness in my heart.
Here’s to you Feb. 17, 2011
Funny that she was flipping through a copy of Runner's magazine at lunch, because I was doing the same thing around the same time, thinking...."I wonder if Kaitlyn still gets this?"
So here's to my sister, the writer!