In December the sun goes down and the lights go up. Store entrances chime with little gold bells and the smell of pine and sugar cookies and cold, damp concrete transform me into the small girl I sometimes forget that I still am. That little girl loves this time of
The evenings come early, draped in the sweet scents of wood smoke and pine, glittering with artificial light. I love this time of year. Time spent nestled deep in your warmest throw, a mug of cocoa spiced heavily with peppermint, the fireplace mantle red and gold and ready for stockings.
Gray morning today. The kind of gray that can only be achieved by constant, biting sheets of drizzle. A world cast in television snow. It feels apt for December. Just over a week from Christmas. A good time for reflection and solitude. I had an anxiety relapse in July. Six