the longer side of the vee

I was looking at a picture of a sleeping toddler earlier... struck by how sweet her little flushed cheeks were, hair flung out in all directions across the pillow, clutching a stuffed pony in the crook of her arm. It's like she was running somewhere at full-speed and sleep just leveled her.

Sleep is such an odd thing. I was looking at her and thinking about all the other little kids across the world who are sleeping in their beds-- little fingers splayed out the same way, hair scattered, cheeks flushed, stuffed animals watching over them protectively. Sleep is like a plot device from a really good science fiction novella... the sun leaves the sky and all humans are unwound slowly until they topple into blankets, mother's arms, stairwells, whatever will hold them until the sun comes up again.

There's a bittersweet loneliness in tucking yourself in at night with no one to talk to. I wonder if there will ever be a night where turning out the light won't feel a *little* strange without someone to pat the covers around me. Do we always half-expect our parents to linger in the doorway for a minute, watching to make sure that we're safe before shutting the door behind them?

It's bitterly cold this week... it feels strange out here when the temperature stays below zero for more than a day at a time. I associate this kind of cold with my Hamilton days, except the bitter, biting 'moisture' is gone... it's a dry cold, with a sarcastic sun that shines down from the clear blue sky without leaving a trace of warmth.
My apartment has the most insane drafts from the windows. I should REALLY fix this. I either pay out the nose for the inefficient heating attempts, or get a knot in my back from contorting into the shape of my quilt for a couple of hours on my tiny, comfy couch.

On my way home, I got stuck at The Train (tm) on East Pearl, and then the same Train (tm) on Hwy 119. It was one of the longest trains I've ever waited for... it's on the same route that's been an endearing part of my summer and many travels to and from Longmont at Train O'Clock, but tonight it was an endless, endless string of round black cars. It was so cold that I could see my breath in the car all the way home, even with the heat blasting. A 40-something man in an SUV next to me looked at me, waved and smiled... and I was so preoccupied with my own train-waiting thoughts that I didn't even have the reflexes to smile back. We waited there *endlessly*, and sat next to each other*endlessly* again in the same lane trying to turn off the diagonal.

There's something warmly familiar about waiting in traffic on bitterly cold nights. Everyone's lit by the faint glow of their dash... tinkering with the radio dials, chatting on the phone, shifting from first to second over and over as a symbolic 'systems check' in consideration of all the ice on the road. For the most part, everyone just sits quietly, facing forward, buried under down jackets and puffy hats. They all share the same quiet, bemused look. Sometimes it twists my heart a little... because I'm a bleeding heart type and everything's a poem in motion, all the time...

This morning, three huge flocks of geese flew overhead as I was walking into work, and I stood in the parking lot watching in amazement as two flocks combined, some geese maintaining their place in line, and others switching flocks in perfect synchronicity. Each goose was spaced out at exactly the same distance from the next, and it dawned on me how much 'fine tuning' they have to do to move into that exact spot while flying.
Why do they change Vees like that?
Do they all try to keep up with each other? Are the geese who traded lines solitary travelers, without a mate?
Do some of them leave their mates behind to join a new line?

Do geese have regrets? Do they ever feel afraid?
Do they all fly at the same rate, or do some Vees travel much too fast for new members, leaving them jittery and aching at the end of the day?

What do their echoing honks mean... trumpeting back from member to member until they reach the end?

I came inside to an empty department, blinking in the dark, cavernous hallway with pink ears and cold rushing all the way down to my core.
Our UPS delivery man came in, smiling.
"Morning Ms. Jane, what's up with the Geese Watch?"
"Oh- just appreciating their technique. They're pretty amazing."
"You know how sometimes one side of the V is much longer than the other?"
"YES! Oh my gosh, what's up with that?? Does it throw the whole flock off, or is it intentional?"
his expression dropped, looking more surprised than pleased now.
"Oh. That's just... just when there are more geese on one side"
He grinned at me. I blushed, realizing that he was making fun of me.
"Psh. What am I signing for, wiseguy?" I said, smiling in return as ice dripped off of my low-tops in big sheafs.

The rest of the day was spent half-heartedly trying to stay on top of meaningless emails... the view of geese obstructed by the blinds.
Back to the work week we go.