Yesterday, I took the long way home through the winding paths of Central Park. Beauty took me uptown. My hair, to be exact, was the reason and when I escaped with my new “do” I debated for a few moments and then stuffed it all under a hat and took off for the park. Skaters twirled and laughed in the distance as I took pause by the bridge. Years ago my mother would drive my grandmother to a park near their home in the depth of winter to look at the “bones” of the trees. They both found the stark beauty of the dark branches reaching for the sky also a promise for spring.
I loved the cat tails growing by the side of the pond and in the thicket the birds were chirping in a raucous manner. In memory of the women who came before me, I admired the bare branches of the trees and dreamed of spring. I didn’t linger long in the park. It was a chilly 26 degrees which eventually bit at the parts of me that were exposed. Still, being there was worth the chill and eventual hat head!