When it doesn’t rock us too much, winter makes a good moment for reflection. Keeping that lesson in mind, I sit at the dining room table before the night of day arrive and type out these words. The light from the computer screen and a dim overhead lamp guide me, and I add the light of a candle for something soft and flickering. Before COVID alerted the world to the fact that most of us could successfully work at home, these early morning hours used to be the only time I was alone in the house. There was always a sort of solace I found in solitude, provided I could hear Andy’s occasional rustling in the bedroom. Present but distant, the way I’ve operated, the only way I knew.
The click and gentle hum of the heater as it kicks on alerts me to the wakening of the world, and soon it will be time to shower and face the day. For now, however, there is only darkness, and the endless expansive possibilities of a winter’s day.
