January dissolves to grey. The kind of grey that seeps through the windows long after I’ve started my day. Clouds hang low spilling rain and melting frost from the branches, ice from the pond. Pretend it hasn’t started like this before, these dreaded days after the holidays when I realize the shortness of the days, the depth of night. We’ve taken down the colored lights; presents are put away, the parties over, the people gone. The cold that enthralled gives way to this dampness. I long already for the cold and clear, for frost and sunlight, for campfires and a pale moon, and children running off into darkened trees as if it were summer. I long for summer.
Here now, alone at last, I yell at the dog. The cat with her strange sulking ways is bothersome. I hear rain beat against the roof and gurgle down the drain spout in an otherwise quiet house. What I’ve shoved aside, is there in the stillness, all the doubts and misgivings piled up and waiting.
I have many doubts and misgivings, the same ones over and over. The ones I’ve resolved to dispel year after year. My resolution, if you can call it that, is always the same. A desire to extend more and grasp less, to ignore the petty doings of the everyday. To be rid of jealousy. To accept shortcomings. To offer compassion, empathy even. To be, in spite of all things, kind. I want to know what to offer or ask, what is needed and when. I desire imagination.
Outside the rain falls. The red of the dead ferns stand out, the cedars and Doug firs become ever more green. I don’t know what I’m trying to say. I am an imperfect creature, imperfect as all creatures are, bound to these days of living even after we’ve tired, after we’ve too often grieved those gone. Here I am, in a quiet house, with a sulking cat, a sleeping dog – longing for things past.
Resolution offers promise. Hope. Desire an aspiration, a wish, a way through these dull days. I desire hope that my imperfect self will greet another spring, hope that I will evolve in some small way. I desire a new year full of bonfires and friends – to be surrounded by unique children full of ordinary needs. I wish for darkened trees and growing gardens, for flawed family and friendly travels. I wish for consideration and questions. I wish for resolve. I wish for a good year. I wish for all of us to survive and flourish, to grow and return, to stand once again beneath a pale moon and wish each other well.