I am desperately tired today. My heart is painted over with a thin layer of nostalgia and longing to be elsewhere, though I couldn’t tell you where – I almost feel like I’m longing for the bright lights and festive feeling of Christmas, maybe even for a cabin in the mountains buried in snow.
I feel like strolling through antique shops and kitschy stores with handmade goods. I feel like sleeping for days. Perhaps most notably I feel like eating my weight in tasty homemade food and savory snacks. I feel a strong and steady pull toward cozy things.
I feel like solitude is calling me. I feel like buried secrets are becoming truths I must finally admit to myself and they can only be birthed, spoken aloud, admitted to, in a deep internal aloneness. This is the way of women in winter, the cyclical call toward hibernation and going inward.
I am desperately tired today but life doesn’t stop because I need to rest, so I will plaster a vacant smile on my face and head back into work, where hopefully my customer service platitudes and good wishes will see me through the day.