Snow keeps falling. Normally dry as fluffy, dancing, swirling dust. Lately, wet as a thick floating blanket.
Heavy, slippery soft and cold, cold, cold. Winter is going out with a flourish. Spring has not sprung.
At home, the great experiment continues. Not enough time for oneself. Not enough time to write or read.
Learning to say "no," again as well as to sign. Seeing the whispers of exhaustion floating off of every body within.
Difficulties with communication all around and loud, loud, loud expressions followed by silent, and harsher feelings.
Bright, aching and startling sun flashes through the windows at times. The grey, calm, deep and cloudy moments follow.
My favorites, are the gray days. The times with sparks of silence, cups of hot beverage. Snow silently slipping through the clouds from the sky.
Colds and sneezes have come and gone. Haggard faces laugh and merriment entails loving words. Back and forth ticks the clock counting the seconds of the minutes of the hours of the days into nights and weeks and months.
Not yet years, but soon enough. How to measure the changes of the internal seasons? How to weather the outside family's struggles and need for support? How to express our love to those that need it beyond ourselves while striving to maintain the rocking balance of peace and working through at home?
There could be enough time in the day if those silent would speak to those willing to listen. There could be love enough in the air if those closed would open to it. There could be compassion and patience for all if those rigid in their expectations could bend a bit, but for now, we make do and move along.
Change, change and more change is on the horizon that floats out in the distance; hovering as the pinks, reds, golds and blues of sunset mingle with the purples, oranges and greens of sunrise.
A wise person once said, 'Everything in moderation,' but what about the days when drowning feels inevitably to be the only option?
Happiness streaked and marbled through with frustration and tension. Sadness touched lightly with warmth and hope and desperate will to work through things.
Sacrifices of the soul made up in new time that flows from the choices of necessity. Gibberish that drips from the lips of babes will soon make sense when we learn the ancient art of translation.
Share the burden, spread out the tension and it becomes thin and more pliable, or breaks and disintegrates all together. Work with each other's strengths; remember that this too shall pass and that the demolition of the easiest parts have already begun. Soon, new and better spaces and places will be revealed if we can simply, hold, hold, hold - on.
What are we missing? Fond thoughts of friends and relatives seep through the cracks and by acknowledging them, they are satiated and spread back through the ether with energy signatures. Say it aloud and it gains power, so make sure you speak what needs to be said for the situation.
Destiny is afoot? Perhaps. Or perchance we make our own fate our own future's stars are designed and hung with our shining hands alone. Life right now, is at it's most alive. Spinning in the melee, the calm at the center of the storm is this delightfully and heartbreaking mess that we call existence.