I have this big dreams of the days when the weather is nice enough for me to just keep on walking after I drop her off, but the last few days have been getting colder and windier, and winter is really on the verge of telling me that it’s time to start driving to save my limbs from freezing and falling off.
What is with this weather, this winter?
Can we even call it a winter?
It doesn’t feel real here in Connecticut.
It hasn’t really happened yet.
That terrible thing, that S word, that curse word of which I won’t speak.
Instead, a week into January I’m stepping out onto my balcony in a t-shirt and hair still wet from the shower, snapping away at this strange, blurry blue sky.
A year without winter is everything I could hope for, it would be a magical, wonderful gift.
And yet it makes me feel this darkness rise up.
The world is ending.
This is probably just one of the signs.