Gazing through the gloom
December 10, 2022
It seems it’s been this way forever, foggy mornings and soggy days in various hues of grey, with only fleeting patches of blue. Since we’re still on the darkening side of the winter solstice, the cloud cover accelerates the early dimming of light. The mercury is unseasonably high even for the South and we’ve had so much rain that our small backyard pool threatens to overflow. Not our natural climate.
The parade of midday runners and walkers outside my window had already vanished when WFH became RTO. In this soup, only the dedicated dog-wranglers are venturing out. On the plus side, the leaf-blowers have gone silent. But as soon as rain the tapers off they’ll be back, louder than a WWII bomber squadron.
As you might have guessed, the weather is among several things that are keeping my mental state in a semi-tropical low. I just lost another friend, the fourth since summer and all of them close to my age. My birthday fell in October and while I’m extremely grateful to be here, I can’t forget how many candles are on the cake.
The author Annie Ernaux, who was recently awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature at age 82, told the New Yorker she had worried that if she won, “they’ll steal my old age from me…What really interests me about youth is that it’s always the time that you remember later. But I won’t be able to remember my old age. So! I have to live it to the fullest.”
I’m not sure staring at my screen qualifies as the fullest anything. Writing is rewarding once it’s done but when the words won’t come, each minute feels like a wasted eternity. If I try taking a break, pretty soon my Midwestern work ethic kicks in: “Get your keister back in that chair. You think books (short stories, blog posts, etc.) write themselves?”
Still, the written word is all I’ve got, especially with the stew of viruses swirling across the country and making human contact hazardous for people like myself. The long-range forecast says we might see the sun next weekend. The days start getting a tiny bit longer eleven days from now. I’ll be watching.
Originally published at http://davesswan.wordpress.com on December 10, 2022.
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