cooler by the lake

Cooler by the lake, I remember hearing that all the time.  Right as the weatherman was wrapping up his prognostication he would add, like an unnecessary afterthought, cooler by the lake.  Didn't mean much to me growing up in Gage Park seven miles west of the lake, and actually sounded like kind of a benefit when I moved into my tower with the splendid lake view.  I love air conditioning when like on a sweaty day I burst into the Walgreens and it is like diving into an arctic pool, but I don't like it at home because then I have to shut my door and I can no longer feel the breezes wafting in my front room and out my bedroom.  So it was nice living by the lake where it is cooler in the summer and sometimes I go the whole year without having to turn the air conditioning on.

But while it's not so hot, in a good way, in the summer; it is also not so hot in a bad way come spring when prevailing weather patterns bring the winds from the north and the northeast, from the lake, that long finger of winter, slow to warm, as is the way with water, and the already cool winds that caress the swamp get cooler as they travel three hundred miles over cool, cool water, and spring, that fair, slim maiden in the green gold gown is held hostage by that troll Old Man Winter, as he slowly, ever so slowly retreats to the north.

So for about a month when further inland daffodils are tossing their tow-headed heads in balmy breezes and the air rings with the laughter of little kids at play, the lakeside days are cold, windy, wet, raw.  We are still allowed, as long as we don't go near any park, and do not travel in packs, to walk the streets of the city.  I was looking forward to this at least, when the weather warmed just to walk downtown, admire the architecture, feel the fresh breeze on my face, get out of the fucking house Man.  If it was merely cold I could weather it, but the rain, the wind, I just can't hit my stride with that.

And it's strange out there.  Though not as many as before, there are still cars, and busses, so many busses, those big flex busses that go on and on, and nobody is in them.  I should get on one, just to ride and look out the window.  I should just pick one at random, not even look at that little sign above the driver's window just to see where it takes me,  At the end of the line I could just get on one coming back.  Plenty of time to kill, kind of an adventure, any kind of adventure is welcome in my housebound existence, but I am strangely afraid, just because nobody else is getting on them.

It doesn't make any sense but there it is,. and here it is cooler by the lake, and will be for weeks.