last longest night
And so ends December 20, the shortest day of the year, four forty-five and from the nearest window (nowhere near my desk) ten floors up it’s just headlights and streetlamps and a thin rim of pale blue over the west hills. How on Earth are we supposed to see where we’re going?Two days ago I told Mo This isn’t how I pictured it and he laughed a sort of snorty laugh that I recognized – because I’ve known Mo a long time – as not condescension but compassion. Coulda gone a lot of ways, he pointed out, but this is the only one that matters.
Now’s about when I quit my fall music and turn up the wailers: Long December and Wish I Had A River and the Decemberists, of course, and a handful of carols so I know it’s not too serious. The timing couldn’t be better, really. Even though all of winter is still stretched out ahead of us, even though we’re not going in with the most robust of reserves, it’s already getting lighter, sure enough.
posted by tortaluga @ 5:13 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home