I had an anxious day this week, but I realised recently that on my anxious days now, a short walk can turn into a longer one and I don’t panic. Before, I might not have even left the house. So I went for a walk.
My hands were frozen, the sky was grey and it was so quiet. For once I didn’t need music in my ears as I walked, and the silence allowed my thoughts to reach higher and higher and then bounce back from the rainclouds.
There is lots of change now, because it is December, of course. On my walk I saw Christmas lights up in the trees and the houses. At home, the heating comes on in the morning. I can hear its clanks when I am half asleep. I like December. It’s not the cold I like necessarily, it’s the process of getting warm. I like mists and frost and the grass being constantly wet. You can see a lot more of the sky when the trees lose their leaves. Not only that but the pinpricks of light from faraway houses. If I look out of my window at a certain angle, I can see the trains shuttle by. When I am at the very top of the slope of the park, I can see all the houses.
Maybe winter doesn’t worry me because I can stay inside and not feel guilty. Thick old books with their pages brown and crackling are a comfort and a warmth in themselves. And there is always the prospect of snow.
Most of the year I feel like I am constantly in a battle with the seasons. In winter, I can finally relax. I can snuggle up in a nest of blankets and retreat from the outside world, and because everyone else is doing the same thing it doesn’t seem strange, for once.
But you know what? I am also trying to emerge from those blankets and stride out into the dark. There is more darkness and night in winter, but there is sparkle too. ♦