| Blogs > _Indigo > My Blog |
|
Shooting Stars  This is a story about a wish made in the quiet of the new year. It’s also about shaking off the chill of winter, a soft towel fresh from the laundry and the deep peace of being at home with yourself. There was just a bit of daylight left when I started getting all my things in order. It was part of the ritual in fact. There were things I did to prepare for this part of my day and they became a way to decompress in and of themselves. First I shovelled the path from the back door out onto the patio. I’d needed a hat and coat and mittens for that. It was a cold, still afternoon and when I scooped shovelfuls of snow from the path I noticed it was the powdery, dry sort that doesn’t pack together into a ball. It fell like shimmering dust from my shovel. It’s a good kind for skiing I thought. But I wasn’t skiing today. I was getting ready for a nice long sit in my sauna. That was something younger me never would have thought she would do. Before I’d bought this house I didn’t even really know what a sauna was. Maybe I’d seen them in movies - and there was the one at my gym that was perpetually closed for maintenance. In fact, I remember being taken through my house and yard by my realtor and spotting a little building tucked under the eaves and asking what on earth it was. A potting shed? A kind of clubhouse? My realtor had laughed and pushed open the door and the smell of cedar and warm air had rolled out and wrapped around me. In fact, that may have been the moment i decided I wanted this to be my home. And now, a few years later, this was part of my routine most cold days of the year. With the path shovelled, I went inside to fix myself a big glass of water and get into my robe and towel. I took a quart sized jar from the cupboard and peeked into the fruit bowl on the counter. Citrus was in season and I had been gifted a large bag of red grapefruit at the holidays. I took one and washed its skin carefully at the sink and sliced it into thin rounds and slid them down into my jar. It didn’t change the taste but just because I liked the way it looked, I spent a couple of minutes getting the slices to stick to the inside edges of the jar so that the pretty star shape and ruby fruit showed through. I poured in fresh water and took a few sprigs of mint from the fridge to drop into the top. Then I went upstairs and took a giant fluffy towel from the linen closet. I pressed it to my nose and breathed in the scent of clean laundry. I shed my clothes from the day and wrapped myself up in my robe, a holiday gift I’d gotten from an attentive friend who’d heard me complain about the holes in my last one. This one went all the way down to my ankles and was made with a soft waffle weave fabric. I tied the belt and stepped into my slippers and headed back downstairs. It had begun to snow again while I was getting into my robe and I stopped at the back door with my towel and water to look out. It was fully dark now. I read in the paper today that shooting stars might be visible tonight but for now the skies were crowded with low clouds. I took a deep breath and stepped through the door. I felt the cold at my throat and hurried over to the patio into the sauna. The little hut was barrel shaped and had a small window in the door. I pushed it open and was immediately surrounded by warmth. I stepped in and left my slippers on a mat inside the door. I sighed. It was an automatic reaction. There was a hook for my robe and a broad bench where I laid my towel. Before I stretched out on it, I reached for the ladle floating in a deep pail of water and spooned some onto the hot stones that heated the room. What a lovely sound that sizzle was and the moist air felt soft as I breathed it in. Sometimes I brought a book in to read while I laid or played music through the speakers, but today I’d had enough of sounds and thinking. The most therapeutic approach for me right now was quiet and stillness. So I laid on my towel and let the heat work its way into my body. I’d had a childhood friend who’s family used a sauna almost every day. It was part of their culture and seen as a necessary component to their health and hygiene. I remembered her saying that she didn’t really feel clean until she’d had a good sweat. And now I understood her completely. As my body warmed up, I felt myself relaxing deeper and deeper. A soft shiver ran through me as the last bit of chill let go and dissolved. I thought about the dark skies above me, about the shooting stars that might, right now, be tracing their way through the firmament. In the newspaper, I’d read that they were tiny specks of space dust, burning as they plunged through the upper atmosphere. And for a few moments, I let my mind wander at the idea of space and far off galaxies and what it might be like to live on a planet with more than one sun, with rings or a different coloured sky. The heat and my body brought me back to earth and I sat up slowly and drank from my water. I could taste the faint hint of citrus and fresh mint and though I thought this most every trip to the sauna, I believed I’d never tasted anything as good. I tossed another ladle of water onto the stones and wrapped the towel around me, sitting on the bench and taking slow, relaxed breaths. As a little girl, I’d wished on the shooting stars and I thought a New Years wish might be better than a resolution. With my robe and slippers on, I stepped out and saw that the skies had cleared. I could see the stars and moon and suddenly the flash of a shooting star. What did I wish for the new year? I looked up and stood still in the quiet. I wished that the winter would go on and on. Nothing Much Happens |
×
×