I’m not so much blue as flat. There’s a weariness that sets in after awhile– a smothering of volition, intention, inspiration. I try to stay away from people cause I am a big fat BORE with truly nothing new or interesting to share, because hello– the Eskimos might have 3,000+ words for snow, but I’ve only got the one.
And sure, I could bore you with details of my inner life, but that too is as quiet and still as a pond in the woods. Honestly, the most excitement I have had this week was when I bought a blender and made my first smoothie of the season– yes! I know! This is my point.
I like to think that someday I’ll look back at this time, this precise time in my life, with fat snowflakes falling thickly outside my window, my heart and spirit suffocated by the downy white– and see it all so differently. (You know, from the porch of my beach shack while I gaze across the white sand to the turquoise ocean– my skin soaking in the warmth and sunlight. . ) but right now, it seems like such a colassal waste of life energy to wrestle with this weather. So much work just to carve out a life when life is hard enough on its own.
But deep underground wheels are turning and my journey south has begun. These long years in the white mountains will soon be a thing of the past and I guess there’s a certain comfort to being so fully, emotionally ready for the change– it helps to have a certain kind of closure, I guess.