I do try. I try not to obsess about the days of darkness. I try to talk about something else … anything else. I try not to give up and go to sleep at 7pm, because it’s been dark for three hours already and who cares anymore. I keep making meals for the family, keep wandering through my routines, keep tying myself into to the small knots of details that make up a pattern of life even when it all seems pointless. I remind myself of days where the sun shone endlessly over green fields. I remind myself of when the sun was so bright it hurt my eyes and I could fling my arms wide and fold it into my skin. It seems unfair that even in those summer days, I carried the fear of winter coiled in my heart. Now that winter has fallen, where is my internal memory of summer, to keep me warm?
I’m making a deliberate effort to work on my gratitude. To notice and appreciate the unique experiences and opportunities of living in this country. Like getting to hang out in Shakespeare’s hometown on my birthday, and contemplate the passing of time with a sundial in his daughter’s garden.
Come what come may, time and the hour run through the roughest day.
God, I hope so.