Change (and cold hands) are relative

My home town has a certain air of timelessness about it.

I spend my day-to-day life in a city that is constantly changing. A few weeks' eschewal of a route will lead to the surprise spouting of seemingly random buildings into any spare gaps upon my return, like weeds in a neglected garden. It often feels that stepping out my front door means an automatic sort of awareness or vigilance, as though you need to pay attention, lest all the constant moving and transformation sweeps you off what falsely seemed like stable ground.

Don't get me wrong-- I like that excitement, that sense of unexpectedness, that chaos that pulses from the city. I enjoy how it allows me to slip out of people's field of vision, and to just blend in with all the anonymous cacophony. I relish being able to watch screenplays develop before my very eyes, through the sheer variety of interactions and behaviours.

But, stepping off the plane today, I took a deep breath of fresh air, and it just felt as though the crispness held a bit more oxygen than usual.
Watching the snow-dusted scenery flicker by the car window, it's amazing how it feels like time has just slowed. I've been away from here for over six years now, and I feel the distance when I'm embroiled in the city life that has become my own. But these flickering images carry me back in a moment.

I can't explain the surrealism of being brought back instantaneously, as though these years have dissipated merely by the glimpse of a road sign.

The standard for change is suddenly different. It is no longer new condos and gang wars and train lines. It is now new paint on the pharmacy, the Mexican restaurant changing owners, a pregnancy announcement.

I took my sister's dog out for a walk tonight, with my pajama pants tucked into winter boots.
It was so quiet. My boots crunching and her collar jingling were the only sounds piercing the silence.
And, even though my hands were cold, it seemed so much more alive for my hands to be cold in that moment, rather than when they are being frantically stuffed in my pocket while waiting for a bus or running to work.