Time away does not necessarily equate to time productively expended. Words have been tacked up less than frequently of late leading one to believe that I may have used that energy in a more useful manner.
This is not the case.
The allure of winter wonder has all but faded. The varying degrees of contrasting shades of white and gray have grown monotonous. Sky gives way to barren landscapes. The lines are blurred. They are all vying for the same colors and the palate is as monochrome as it is cold.
The pilot light of a boiler 60 years past it’s prime provides singularly the warm hues I seek yet thoughts of it’s ceaseless activity, it’s constant labor, do little to provide the warmth I so desperately need.
There are drafts everywhere. Small children are incapable of appreciating the value of sealed entryways.
The occupants in my head have grown as restless as those in my home, confined for too long in spaces that are small. And confining.
Such is the nature of winter. Once again it has persisted beyond tolerance. Like conversations with acquaintances that offer detailed soliloquies to the cursory “how are you today?” I’ve grown weary. And yet, I am powerless to make an exit.
And so I’ll make do. I’ll continue to smile and nod agreeably maybe even chuckle from time to time as if I’m interested, at least I’ll try, and I’ll get through another one. But just to be safe, I’m gonna keep my head down.
Holy crap! Someone could lose an eye!