Cold feet, warm feet, memories of youth…

Our (untouched) patio photo this morning with my daughter-in-law on a counseling call.

A butterfly who visited us this morning and even landed on our granddaughter’s apron as she and her sister played ‘restaurant’ and served us.

Of late, and it is feeling as though it is related to my age, I am really cold in the house. Clearly, it is a hot summer and the air conditioning is on. We live in a bi-level, which I find is harder to heat and cool with consistency. In the winter, for example, the rooms above the furnace (which is on the lowest level) on the upper level, can be quite warm. Luckily, the primary bedroom (formerly known as the Master Bedroom, but I am trying to be politically correct) is an addition that we had done over twenty years ago and great care was taken to keep it cool in the summer and warm in the winter.

In the summer, our lowest level is really cold. That is where we sit after dinner and if we are able to, we ‘veg out’ by watching a little TV and then the BBC America news. By the time we go to bed, my feet, in particular, and often the rest of me, can be ice cold and although summer, even last night I was under an old Navy blanket that belonged to my father during WWII.

Going to bed can be a real trial when one is really tired and feeling so cold that even getting ready for bed can be something that one doesn’t want to do. I get into bed and I am still cold and despite my cold, and I do mean cold feet, I am able to go to sleep without a problem and without socks. For whatever reason, I am able to do so and even wake up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, at which time, I have to remove the excess covers and stick my feet out of the bedding. In another words, I have gone from being ice cold to being hotter than I might have felt on a hot summer night as a kid in our home that was not air conditioned and only cooled by a huge Vornado fan (that still works for my sister) that pulled air across the entire length of our little house in a suburb of Cleveland.

The feeling of pulling up the covers and putting my head down on the pillows when I go to sleep, is unbelievably soothing. As I mentioned, I am really cold and almost to the point of being uncomfortable. Yet, this moment is one of the best moments of the day and I only wish I could duplicate the feeling at other times of the day. The only thing I could compare it to is when I had mono in what seems like a thousand years ago, and got into a twin bed in my in-law’s house to sleep on the cold percale in a very cold bedroom.


About Richard Koerner

Sixty something, father, papi, educator, organizer, Francophile, traveler, amateur photographer, gardener, cyclist, kayaker, calligrapher, cinephile, reader, and overall renaissance type human being.
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