Wander.

There's a lot of "have-to's" in my life right now. I wake up and force myself to slide out of the warmth and peace of my bed, into my cool dark room. The morning seems to be the only time the room is cold. And in the quiet, I'm not thinking about the things that make me happy. I'm not thinking about how warm my socks are, how pure the water I drink is, how much love there is in my life. I'm thinking about finding my books, my keys, my toothbrush. I'm thinking about the time of day, and whether the elevator is faster than the stairs at this moment. I'm thinking about the class I have to be in, the assignment I have to finish, the notes I promised to copy for a friend.

My class is over and I'm thinking about eating lunch, studying french, switching gears. I'm thinking about when to go to the optometrist, and when to buy skates. I'm thinking about what I need to prepare for dinner. I'm thinking about finishing my passport application, and when can I take that in, and where do I take it to?

And before I know it I'm thinking about my next class. I'm thinking about the reading that I have to finish, and the reading I have to start. I'm thinking about the grades I have to make. I'm thinking about the appointment I need to make to discuss how I can fit in all the courses I have to take.

When my classes are done for the day, and dinner's cooked, I rush to finish, to be downstairs, to meet Amber for an exercise class. I have to start being active again. The class is full, but instead we decide to walk together a little later.

The canal is frozen. It opened for skating last week, and as we walk along it, I wonder if there's water running underneath, or it's frozen solid, stuck, until something bigger lets it free. Sometimes I wonder if the things I think about are really about the water I'm walking on, or if they are about the things that are flowing, or stagnant inside. I wonder if I'll melt, or if I'll break, and which will be easier. And which will work better.

I say goodbye to Amber, and now I'm walking back along the ice. It's not as slippery as imagined. I think about the last few days. From the birds eye view I have through the chilly glass of my tenth story window, I've watched the ice. I watched it harden. I watched when the snow began to stick. I watched the trucks go up and down it. Benches and flags get carefully placed. I've watched children, and lovers, and parents, and grandparents put on their skates, and glide until I can't see them anymore. It's a smooth and fluid motion, it's a free and marvelous dance. But my boots tread along the ice and it's bumpy. There's holes and hills and the thinnest possible slices, a serene tracing, a silent story of somebody's journey. And I know that I'm just in a bump right now. Most people dont fall when their skates go over the bumps. Everyone who falls gets up.

I'm watching some little boys race across the ice in hockey helmets and skates and mittens that make their hands remind me of Winnie the Pooh lifting a hand of glossy honey out of Rabbit's jar. I'm listening to mother's calling to their children. "That's far enough" "Quoi?" answers the child, who looks at me, and back at his mom, smiles when I smile, and skates on. I think about going skating when I was little. Everyone thought I had the coolest mom, because every time, after I didn't need a hand, she'd lead a train. I'd reach up and grab on to her hips, laughing. And my friend would latch on to me, and her friend to her, and soon all the kids were gliding along behind my mom who twisted and turned and sped along the smooth ice while we giggled and held on with everything inside of us. Then we'd break, someone would let go and we 'd tumble down, roll around on the ice, get back up and race towards her. We'd crash into her all wanting to be at the head of the train. I think about my pinky-orange helmet and the reflective sticker that I got one Halloween which lay crooked above my forehead. "Get Visable." What am I doing right now that is visible? What am I doing right now that I'll want to remember ten years down the road? What am I doing now that reflects the light I want to reflect? What am I doing right now that makes me laugh, and makes the people around me laugh? I need to re-discover the thing that makes me want to jump back up, and race to start again after a fall.

I'm curled up in my chair feeling the icy air move slowly through my window. The tops of my fingers and my arm that's closest to the window are starting to get cold. I hope that tomorrow when I wake up, in the quiet of the morning I'll know who I am. Whose I am. And maybe I'll be able to see the have-to's in a better light.