(Somehow) Worth Noting

When the sun broke through the clouds last Saturday, Husband and I headed over to the new house and begin re-finishing the old hardwood floors. The original floor boards, narrow and hand-hewn in 1936, were hidden beneath a thick layer of soiled carpet, and we tore up that carpet before we'd owned the house even a full day.

We wore flannel and fleeces to keep warm as we worked in the empty rooms that still hold  echoes of a previous owner's life.  Every so often, I left the dusty room, left the sound of grinding machinery, and stepped out onto the narrow front stoop to experience the temporary sunshine.

In Karamoja, January is the time of year when you crave the shady shapes cast down by the neem trees; you welcome any escape from the hot sun. You step into the dark shadows in the dirt, and though the temperature is not significantly different beneath the trees, the cool shade, somehow, refreshes your soul.

In Pennsylvania, January is the time of year when you crave pockets of sunshine and those warm corners of sunlight that creep through glass windows and tall doorways. You sit on the concrete stoop in the afternoon light, for even though a January breeze is anything but warm, the sunshine, somehow, revives your soul.

As I sat on the steps, there was an orange tabby cat sitting in an overturned patio table in a yard across the street. There was a hedge of deciduous greenery lining our neighbors yard. Coins of melted snow clung to the dark leaves and dripped on the frozen, thawing earth.

And then, of course, there was the sun.