No, I did not come up with that title myself--it's from a poem by Emily Dickinson and that's the only line that ever stuck with me. It's something about winter and how the light changes. Anyway, what I'm getting at (or trying to) is that it's that time of year when the light is different and Winter makes its presence known even if it hasn't quite entered the room yet. The early sunset brings a late afternoon dimming to the world, ending in a darkness that begins at about 5:30pm. It feels like midnight and it's barely 7pm.
Besides the light being different, this time of year brings about feelings of endings, closing of chapters, and a general darkness of the mind. It's difficult to explain and it's neither morbid nor scary, just a kind of heaviness that befalls the heart. This seems to be the most ironic time of year--all this holiday cheer coupled with feelings of inadequacy partnered with trying to keep up with the Joneses or whoever lives on your street. Again, not easily explained in words.
If you're confused at this point, so am I, so you're in good company.
Happy (almost) Winter and try to be grateful for what you have. I'm trying.
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