The first hard freeze comes this week. Friday night settles in blank and hard, open to the sky. Sky like the desert mountaintops, open to the vacuum.
I started a new job last week, the first full week this past. Out sick the first two days, fretting about what the job is, what am I doing with my life, what choice am I making that I don’t even know. I checked email. Wednesday I went in. By Friday things were clearer. I made a little toy application on a Windows tablet, dragging little squares around. When I left I felt released, whole and free.
Friday can be like that. The last bell ringing, realizing that moment is the longest possible expanse of time before the bell rings again, and we are back in the control machine. It had been sunny. Matt and I shared a brief call at lunchtime: here it is, the future again. It will be all right here too. Dark before 5, I was in the garage with my old car, not having left the lights on this time. I checked the oil and saw it was low, and driving home stopped at the discount grocery. I had things to do and places to go, people I could call. It felt very, very good.
Saturday broke clear, as promised. I woke early but was not productive, but I finished a story in the evening. Matt and I texted a little. I visited another friend and got the scarf her mother made for me. I was happy to see her. The scarf is scratchy but I am happy for it too.
New Year’s Eve, Christmas, a Thanksgiving in Texas where it might have been summer is all in the past. The long strange desperate empty overflowing changeling fall has left nothing but pictures and post-its. I have cleaned out my files, entered the post-its worth keeping into them. There is everything to say and nothing to say.
I remain undepressed about the holidays ending. More will come, later. I am taking careful notes. The cat likes playing and is okay by himself. Things are happening and it is okay to not be sure what they are.
Hard freezes are clean and sparkling, brisk with energy. When I stood on the mountaintop, the sky was closer. The cold brings the sky down and makes us see how thin it is.