On Death and Drying
Summer has ended and the last of its flowers are dying on my table. Every day I look at them and wonder whether or not it’s time to take them to the compost bin, and every day I think they’re pretty enough to stay a little longer. I can’t imagine throwing something so vibrant away, even if it’s going to be recycled into something new for next year.
I think I’m clinging to the idea of summer because I’m still a little afraid of what Winter might bring. When my husband and I moved to Tennessee in 2021, we experienced one of the most exciting summers of our lives– a new place, a new life to figure out, so many old friends to catch up with, so many new friends to fall in love with. By the time Winter sank it’s teeth into us, we were already caught in the mire of cold days and dark nights. I experienced real, actual seasonal depression for the first time. I wouldn’t leave my house for days at a time, and when I did I didn’t want to.
In the last couple of months I’ve found myself staying up later on occasion. Sometimes right as I’m falling asleep, an idea for something I can jot down will streak across the cineplex of my minds eye and jolt me awake. Other times it’s been getting sucked into a great conversation with a better friend and gabbing until 2 AM on accident. More recently, it’s been early morning airport runs or my dear husband’s DJ sets until the wee hours of a morning at a bar that’s starting to feel like home.
I’m writing this at 6 AM, no sun in the sky. There are no lights on in the house. I am enveloped in darkness, and it feels still and calm. The house is winter cold.
In about an hour the sun will make her way to the horizon line, colors will streak across the sky, magnificent in all of its splendor.
Maybe the darkness is to contrast the light.
Maybe this Winter isn’t something to fear.
Or maybe I can walk towards the fear with a microscope instead of a magnifying glass.
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