So the blues from yesterday are still keeping me company. They still insist that they just want to be friends. I'm not buying it. Maybe I need to buy it. Today's sky is cold gray and that gives the blues a gray tinge too. This post Christmas stretch is such a confusing time. I began to play with the season on a Saturday night in early December and had some sweet days between December 21 and 27. They were all quiet days, laced with laughter, shared chores, walks, good company, and moments of satisfying solitude.
So why is it all so confusing? I hate the commercialism and the prodding from big business to buy buy buy yet I also appreciate the pleasure in gift giving. Our young adult children did a marvelous job of thoughtful gift giving and their dad and I did too. But there is still a twinge of sadness. At what? The part of human life that is sad? For me, this seems to be a mourning period. I am sadly aware of the loss of the past, the little kids who once lived here. I am sadly aware of life when it was fresh and new, when all doors were open, when post Christmas held a promise of something vibrant and pristine. Now I feel sort of blunted, weary, if you want. I am skeptical of surprises, skeptical of promises.
Mingled with the mourning is fear - fear of the future. What tragedies are on the horizon that I can't even glimpse right now? They have to be sitting out there, watching me in my innocence and naiveté, perhaps saying to each other, "Wait til she sees what's next!". I know I am scared. Not much I can do about the future though. That is the tough part. Maybe that was something about youth. Youth thought she could make things happen. She thought she could control what was coming down the road. She thought she would stay vibrant and pristine forever. Nope. Along comes Reality and he says, "I am the boss. I will decide what's what. So hang on for the ride of your life."
I had a dream a few weeks ago where I was on a monorail type of conveyance. The train went up six different poles, each pole covered with vines. The cars circled around the pole and then came back down, over and over again six times. The dream ended just as the car was completing its sixth descent. What if each pole represents a decade of my life. There were only six poles in the dream. Maybe this dream is telling me that my days are numbered. Maybe this is my last year on the ride? Talk about scary.