It’s cold in the house. Outside snow falls. A scrawny sparrow chirps next to the empty bird feeder. Several chubby squirrels managed to pry the lid off and now seeds litter the front porch.
I see a woman walking in the park. Her furry parka makes her into an upright lioness. I too will venture out soon. The ground is dusted with snow. I wonder whether boots are necessary. I see a mental image of myself flying through the air. Yes, I think something with tread would be a good idea.
I open the closet and sigh. The coats and jackets are slouching half on and off coat hangers. I prepare for battle. I know that when I manage to pull out my heavy coat, one of my wife’s coats will fall into the dark abyss at the bottom. I am certain that it will land on my dirty work boots.
After removing my coat and boots I manage to force the door shut with a bang. It’s almost as if the clothing and other unseen occupants of the closet are clawing at the door and pushing it open at the same time.
I bundle up from head to toe and brace myself for the bone-chilling cold.
I squeeze through the doorway in my bulky clothing.
I did it. I am outside on this fine winter day.