Another night down and no calls, no messages. And so it continues.
The day has dawned cold and grey. At least it’s drier this morning. The weather this past weekend sure has matched the mood. Gloomy, foreboding and sullen.
This bag of coffee is the pits. Same brand as usual but something is different. It’s as weak and tasty as reheated dish water.
Another week down. Another starting. Time marches on despite all our plans. Yet, in some instances, time stands still, the end that should be now, dragging, dragging, dragging.
The morning sky presents a deathly grey countenance to the world. There’s joy and happiness out there somewhere but elusive and hidden at present moment.
A few stubborn leaves still cling to the branches in the kitchen window. Tenacious, strong-willed, refusing to bow to the inevitable. What foolishness is this belief that they can win over the Grim Reaper of Winter? “Let go”, I say, “Let go!” “We’re not ready yet” comes their reply
Somehow life goes on, needs to go on. Pressing concerns, however ridiculous, mandate a shower, a groom and a deathly commute. Another faceless day as time rolls relentlessly on toward the end.