There is a huge glass pane on one side of my
front room; the side that looks at the lake across the little grassy slope and
bare headed winter trees. Outside the glass pane, the wind is chilly and ever
moving; rubbing against the little perennial shrubs - most probably Cotoneasters;
brushing against the cars parked at the bottom of the slope; howling and
growling at strangers and friends alike; caring for none, stopping at nothing. On
this side of the glass pane, everything is the opposite, just as you would
imagine. The air is warm and ever still; sitting gently atop all animate and
inanimate objects; quiet and at peace with it’s surroundings. I often turn the
central heating down and sit by the window pane. My usual companion is a cup of
Green Tea; today it is a bowl of Quinoa and peppers. My laptop is sitting on a bright
golden brown cushion as I am typing. Imagine me sitting cross legged in my
blue- red spotted dress- El vestido- a new word I learnt in class today. My
hair is tied up in a bun on my head. Some strands have escaped the clutches of
the black rubber band and are now scattered about my ears and nape; too tiny to
be held within the roll.
It is
getting cold inside the room. The heat has not been turned on since yesterday
night. I like sitting by the pane with the heat turned off. Through some
invisible cracks and fissures the cold wind from the outside seeps into the
interior of my room. It has an amazing effect on my unclad skin. Tiny little goose
bumps are spreading all over my arms as I type on. Signs of life in a muted
house. On days that I sit here motionless, not thinking, just looking at the
lake, the sudden irruption of these bumps on my skin draws attention to all the
other quiet, uncomplaining, tireless processes that keep me alive; yet I thank
them so little. The beating heart, the batting lashes, the steady inhalation
and expiration...
The
wind outside is playing with the water of the lake at the moment. I see it
riding on the beams of the slowly fading sun, touching and missing the little
waves as they keep rising and falling. Lake Ontario is a sea in itself. It has
some very populated islands in it. The Toronto Islands on its Western end, the
Thousand Islands, the Galloo Island added to the National Register of Historic
Places in 1983, the Wolfe Island which is the largest in the basin and a number
of others. When for the first time I had visited the Toronto Islands, I could
not believe that it belonged to a lake. It has residential houses, a forest, a
generous amount of beach area, a little zoo and even an airport of its own
serving the city of Toronto. It is this very amazing lake, one of the five
Great Lakes of North America that I am looking at right now. A gentle blue
giant playing with the restless gusts of cold Westerlies!
photo: www.flickr.com