When I was a little girl, most weekends my brother and I were packed into my father’s dusty silver Ford Ranger along with an orange cooler filled with Corona beer, Diet Coke, and ham and cheese sandwiches to set off for the mountains. You see, it was my father’s greatest
Endings attract reflection. In these long nights before the new year, I again find myself over-analyzing the big questions. Am I living a meaningful life? A worthwhile life? What is it that this quivering, anxious, energetic body brings to the world? And is it good? And I still don’t know.
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