I pulled a frost encrusted blanket off of my face, staring up at a sky of gray twilight, vision rippling underneath a pool of tears. I rubbed my eyes with my palms, but the tears kept flowing. Mike and Win still slept soundly, huddled in a mass of comforters and sleeping bags. In spontaneity we had decided to spend the night on the trampoline, battling the gnawing chill of late-fall Wisconsin for the chance to see more stars than ever in a lifetime of hazy city nights.
I crawled out of my textile cocoon, making drunken steps toward the edge of the trampoline. After tossing my comforter over the two sleepers, I softly dropped onto the crystallized grass. Shivering, I wandered eastward, weaving through a stretch of woods of varying shades of gray, monotone and muddled.
I emerged from the trees and bounded up a dune. Upon reaching the peak a frigid gale blasted me, breaching my cotton hoodie and flannel pants with a cold from the depths of Lake Michigan. More tears mustered in defiance of the freezing wind; I wiped them away with my sleeve.
I strode along the shoreline, fists shoved deep in pockets, legs like logs falling clumsily, one after another, in a gawky rhythm. My hair flew every which way, whipping angrily. Metallic waves rolled over the sand, darkening the ashen shores with froth and spray. A thin line of blue-black clouds hovered over the distant horizon, flashing and raging, mutely, so far removed to the other side of the lake. I walked for an hour.
And finally! A burst of red breached the dark lake line, flooding the shimmering waters in vibrant oranges. The sands assumed a soft pink and the edges of the stormheads glowed in brilliant yellow. The sun rose like a shining eye, bloodshot, unblinking, framed between two lids of cloud and water.
