A November morning

The weather’s got me all confused. It was 29.5 degrees as I left for work this morning. The windshield needed scraping, the fingers went numb on the steering wheel. Unfortunately, it’s one of those sensations that triggers a longing: That numbness in my fingers should be from gripping an ice axe through wet gloves. My breath, visible on the chilled air, should be quickened by a forced pace up a steep, frozen slope. This cold reminds me of so many alpine mornings, up long before the sun, moving fast to try to warm up before the tingling in my toes becomes permanent, each step bringing me higher and further from places soft, flat, and temperature controlled. I miss the mountains.