Playing for Time

***

A month away from the official solstice, the house has hit its chilliest fall morning so far, and the fireplace felt like instant benevolence after I crawled out of the blankets. The temps don’t qualify as true cold yet, but their nighttime consistency is soaking into the concrete, bricks, steel, and glass, finding our bones for shelter, and it all feels very coldhearted indeed. But fireplace, coffee, Sunday omelets, hugs, family… all is well.

The fall-back time-change is kicking my butt this year and my biorhythms are decidedly not cooperating in a “let’s sync this up” plan of action. I’m heavy-lidded by 8:30pm and still a little googly-eyed when morning comes, so I’m more than ready to kick the ennui and sluggishness to the curb and crank up the energy a notch or two. If you have helpful tips for readjustment this late into the process, please share!

The good news is that despite da’ bote of us being less than stellar physical specimens at the moment, 2023 has been what we declared it would be… the year we got it together enough to make our entire loft clean AT THE SAME TIME, reroute what we no longer need, replace a few time-worn necessities, and focus on the here and now in intentional ways. This morning the floors shine, the refrigerator is spanky-clean inside and out, my closet weighs many pounds less than it did a few months ago, and my head is starting to follow suit. Since it’s always my biggest problem, we’re talking REALLY good news. The cleaner surfaces and absence of objects sitting in spots they don’t own are freeing my mind in precisely the ways I knew they would, so the elbow grease has been entirely worth it.

With a turn toward rainy days and colder temps, an early-winterish routine is setting in. I’ve been sleeping at least an hour past my usual wakeup because why not. Savory food adds even more to quality of life than usual. The news, awful as it is, comes to us as if trying to cushion us against psychic damage… it all carries a faraway feeling of being not quite real. Exercise, the idea of it, the thought of it, the necessity of it, is soaked in a fresh sense of “do it now” after John’s recent visit and timely medical counsel. I’m playing my piano again, something that’s been my go-to for comfort and homey warmth since I learned my first song at age five. I’m trying to write something meaningful, if only to me, every day. I spend a lot of time pushing words around “on paper,” rearranging the furniture, but increasingly now, my muse and I have a breakthrough worth celebrating. Cold gray days are highly conducive to all of the above, so no dread here, just the age-old struggle against the dark.

I’ve relinquished a lot of old ties over the years, but I’m still hanging in with social media, partly since the only other person I’d talk to most days otherwise would be Kim, and there aren’t enough earplugs in the world once I get going. But he’s loving, longsuffering, and hears very little of it, so I guess we’re good.

Twitter is an increasingly weird place where it feels like no one is actually in charge and the inmates are running the asylum. So I block the people I don’t want to see and stick with longtime friends there who make me laugh, think, cry, and rejoice in being human. If whatshisname adds a subscription bounty, or the baddies far outnumber the goodhearted, I’ll bail. For now, I can still go there and let my freaky side out for a walk, and my loved ones’ lives are the better for that.

Facebook has been part of my life for fifteen years and I’ve made lifetime friendships there with people I’d never have met any other way. They enrich my life every day, encourage me, give me a sense of still belonging to a tribe, laugh with me, cry with me, check on me… it’s so much like “real life” it’s uncanny, no? Couldn’t possibly leave yet, they’ll have to pry it from my cold, dead hands… oh, sorry, lost the plot for a second there.

Even the most solitary soul has been known to find “society” in unexpected places… we’re simply made that way. I rode shotgun with Kim while he did errands yesterday and at one point, sitting outside a grocery store, I came face to face with the greatest example of society and community I’ve witnessed in a while. It was a beautiful afternoon, with the parking lot packed, and Kim pulled in just across from the entrance, giving me a front row seat for the parade. I lost track of nationalities and ethnic groups represented in the constant in-and-out through the doors. Everyone was there… Southeast Asians, Native Americans, African Americans, Hispanic Americans, Latin Americans, East Indians, Pacific Islanders, a smattering of “white,” and plenty of Heinz 57. Have I ever mentioned how much I love this university town… in Kansas, America, of all places.

Winter’s coming, boys and girls, but we’ll be okay. Again. Some more. Happens every year and many live to tell about it. December 21st, the Winter Solstice, has the fewest hours of sunlight in the entire year, so make sure you have a book or ten laid by for snug well-being.