The Big Idea of a Day Off

The big idea of a day off cracked open my mind to the air wrapped in rain unsheathing over my face from from the open window.  It was heaven to lie there 100% comfortable supported in all the right places, the temperature perfect, and feel that cold soft breeze unfurl into other mornings —twelve years ago in Lafayette crossing the bridge from our house on the wrong side of the tracks to teach in West Lafayette.  What sort of shoes did I wear?   Always a tall lonely figure, unless festooned by kids.  Now a flagpole wrapped in the damp fabric of mornings in Donegal where each billow of air arrived spiked with rain and possibility.  There was time.  There was is.  The huge dome of sky a watery blue or green chased by strips of cloud to where it dipped at all the horizons into the oblivious sea.  The smell of turf cross-hatched between the sky and cottages to make a habitable roof.  Gusts pulling the heavy flag reluctantly from the pole like a wet bathing suit from cold flesh.