The days are getting longer, but remain cold; and soon worse than cold, clammy. Everything is dingy and spent, much like showing up for a party a day late and finding an empty, sticky mess where once there might have been things alive and elegant. This isn’t a place where you want to be. And foreboding, too, feeling like a rehearsal for things yet to come.
I’m kicking it around…
Mornings feel especially bleak. Deep in the winter season it is all still and deadly cold. There’s a sharp reality in that. And that’s good. Plus the coziness of starting the day, half awake, with coffee brewing and bread toasting is youth to me. There is a sense of duty or something, a sense of purpose in getting oneself together to go out and face the day when the natural world still sleeps. It’s quite human. That suits me.
And now while I think about this, I get a sense that the indistinguishable sounds of traffic and other things that hum outside could be from another planet. Those sounds are that far off and distant. That’s the outside world passing by, going where it is going, and not needing or taking anything at all from me. Kind of scary, isn’t it? And especially haunting on these dull days, too, when all at once everything that was going to happen has happened and anything more is uncertain and waiting.
So I thought I would write about it and cheer up.