Winter

Winter feels like a dripping faucet when you’re trying to fall asleep.

Winter feels like an itchy tag that you can’t remove without ripping a hole in your shirt.

Winter feels like being a child at a dinner party, waiting and waiting for the boring adult conversation to stop so that you can go play, and getting the distinct feeling that it won’t stop. Ever. You will spend the rest of your life perched on the Martyrs Mirror at this table in this house that smells weird.

At the beginning it’s manageable. At the end it’s absolutely tear-out-your-hair unbearable. But there’s nothing you can do about it, really.

Happy rainy Thursday, everybody. 

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4 responses to “Winter

  1. “You will spend the rest of your life perched on the Martyrs Mirror at this table in this house that smells weird.”
    This is why you need to write children’s books.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Twila Smucker

    I paused and savored that line too and a flood of memories came back of dinner at old people’s houses that smelled weird and long table conversations! And we in Idaho are going STIR CRAZY right now. Anika cries when I tell her there is more snow in the forecast. Right now we have about 3 feet of snow in the yard and more is dumping down rapidly. So this resonated with me. I guess Keri and my idea of going to Oregon by train next week to “escape” and get some spring time isn’t all that good if you are experiencing the same there in the form of gray rain (which is almost worse than snow in my opinion!)

    Liked by 1 person

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