Briskly walking several blocks in Manhattan. It's so cold. I'm wearing my long johns, oh how the thermal underwear helps! The scarves, hats, gloves, pairs of socks, turtlenecks, and even my fleece face mask are simply not enough. This cold has a bite to it. It penetrates my layers of warmth. It invades the very fabric of my being. I cannot think. Where's a store? I use the five minute store technique. I find a store at random, enter it for five minutes to warm my body and leave. I do this every ten blocks or so. Don't ask why I'm waking so much, just keep reading! I pass by homeless people every few blocks. Their teeth chatter. Their breathing is cool and faint. Their bodies shake. Those signs they carry vibrate. I'm sad of course, but also filled with relief.
It is so cold, I cannot think. I'm almost done with my last errand. When its all done, I feel frozen. As I begin the process of heading back home, one word echoes in my mind: "Home!" It is my sanctuary of comfort and warmth. I am relieved my long journey is over. I am ready to climb aboard the train back home. As my body warms, the thoughts begin to permeate. The bubble of comfort bursts. I am consumed by dread. I have it so good, I think. I am lucky. How lucky exactly? Well, I am going home. I have a home to go to! Yes! A nice warm place which has a bed, blankets, food, water, liquor, televisions, laptops, books, magazines, newspapers, clothing, family, and a door to keep it all safe.
I am not homeless, I am not on food stamps, or worse, I am not someone whose food stamps have been cut off by the government with no empathy. I love to burst your bubble. If you're complaining about how cold it is, don't.
It's January, it should be cold, and quite honestly, that should be the least of your worries...
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