December Rains

I am in a muddle.  I haven't written anything in a few weeks, short of an email or quick facebook post, so here I sit in silence, on the weekend between Christmas and New Year's, with pen, notebook, tea, and dimly lit tree, knowing it will be coming down in a few days.

The idea, of taking the tree down, colors my thoughts with a melancholy blanket of blah.  This year has been a rainy December.  There is much winter to go, and I am hoping for a clean, white slate soon, and even though I know I have had a good month with my family, I can't help but feel dissatisfied with the winter rains that have drowned the sleeping landscape in a puddle of gray.
I dread taking down the tree.  I know it will feel good in the long run.  I have left the tree well into January before, and regretted my procrastination as it became a grim, looming thing while the days passed and the dread of sorting ornaments weighed heavier and heavier.  "I won't do that again" I think to myself.

As I sit, curled into the cushion of the overstuffed chair, mind continuing it's wander, I recall my husband's grandmother's words, "In January, the cold gets stronger, and the light gets longer."  I catch a glimpse, in my imagination, of a January day when I suddenly notice, (as if it was actually sudden and not a very gradual thing) that the sun is rising a bit further North, climbing higher in the sky, and shining into the later afternoon hours.  I can see it clearly for a second, even feel the sun on my skin if I let my mind relax. . .breath just right. . . or concentrate just enough. . . then the image is gone.  Did I really feel it?  Just as swiftly as the image appears, it fleets away leaving me settled, once again, by the old Christmas tree as the December rain begins to fall in heavy, steady, drops on the metal roof overhead.


Dogtrax said...

.. the cold gets stronger, and the light gets longer ...
I wander amid the weather,
moody and melancholy and yet,
at peace inside where her words reside,
reaching down
with bare fingers to caress a snowflake,
fallen and yet frozen in perfect symmetry,
remembering now that this is how winter is,
strong cold- longer lights;
a memory that keeps us tethered.


PS - I sometimes lift lines from bloggers to make small poems as comments. I hope you don't mind ... those lines of your husband's grandmother and the tone of your slice resonated with me.

Amy Boyden said...

Honored Kevin! Your lovely poem is in tune with my (mood, writing. . .) Thank you.

Jennifer Laffin said...

This reflection captures what so many of us are feeling this time of year, I am sure. After the celebration and busyness of Christmas pass and the house must return to its pre-decorated state, it can be difficult. I do feel the light getting longer, though. Last night it was about 5:00 and I noticed a lingering light in the west that wasn't there last week. This gives me hope. Happy new year to you, Amy!

Sweet Writing

Mrs. Laffin's

Anonymous said...

Thank you for sharing your powerful imagery shared through a multi-modal format. I was engaged and moved throughout the entire reading. Glad you found the time to write and share today!

Anonymous said...

Redecorating does set a melancholy mood. Looking back on what we did during the holiday always seemed to make things bit brighter for us as we put things away.

And as you said, the days are getting longer. Happy New Year.

Tara Smith said...

Ah, I am sitting in front of our tree and feeling exactly this...but, there is always next year to look forward to! Here's to happy memories made in the New Year!~