Think for another second about what it was like to catch a taxi five years ago.
How are you all? How are you feeling? How are you doing? What quality is your life? How do you pass your days? Is everything, you know, okay? Do you need anything? I could bring soup. A bottle of wine. A book that might serve as distraction. I could bring my unerringly wrong sense of humorous timing.
Alternatively, I’d be happy to sit in a darkened room and stare into the middle distance, just to keep company.
There are so many options for these days of bluster and waning energy.
Spring is coming. I can tell because of the mud. And we’ve had our windows open the last few nights. Our internal clocks are clicking over into melt, mud, new growth, and longer days. But I’m resisting. I need another month, a few more deep snowfalls. I need darkness that falls at four o’clock and the sound of freezing rain on a metal roof. I need scarves.
But! There’s not much point in resisting the seasons. Other things, yes, resist, but seasons are inevitable.
I have an essay that’s up at Paste Magazine today. I’d be honored if you’d read, like, share. This is what we do when the seasons are changing for warmer and we’re not ready for it–we shove our little missives into the world and hope for connection.
Dear ones, I hope you are well.