Perspective and Other Mythical Constructs.


Photo by Patrick Fore / Unsplash

It was a blue sky day here in central Florida. The wind was cool and the morning temperatures played around in the low 5os, before rising to 60-something in the late afternoon. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, which felt great after the week or so of overcast and rainy days we've just gone through. Today the sky was the soft, rich blue of infinite possibility. It doesn't feel like this very often. This is the only tolerable time of year weather-wise in this fetid swampy armpit of a state.

It is consequently my favorite time of year.

That January New Year energy is starting to fade, but the year ahead is still laid out before us like a banquet of endless possibility. I am not sure where I will be in 6 months, but I have multiple tantalizing possibilities. 2022 hasn't shown us its true face yet. This year could be anything: the end of the pandemic? Sure. Civil war? Can't rule it out. Growth and reconciliation between the divided populace? Won't bet on it, but you'd love to see it and February says "Maybe, just maybe...". Anything is possible in February.

I took my motorcycle out this morning and rode through the pre-dawn streets on my way to the gym. Not another car was on the road. I watched the fog condensing in the air over the wet fields and felt the cold wet air zooming through the gaps in my helmet. It's a hell of a time to be alive. But then again, that's always true.

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Jamie Larson