I sit here in front of my computer, hating myself for being as miserable as the weather has been lately, knowing I am made of stronger stuff. At least I think I still am. I have never let the weather get me down this bad before. But as you get older, winter seems to go on forever. The grey monotony of a cold, rainy days eats into your soul and you can be forgiven for thinking that this is it, no more happy sunshiny days. No more hope or inspiration.
I am getting quite old now and usually refuse to give in to the sneaky feeling that I’m supposed to be winding down and getting ready for the final switch off. Since my heart attack, I have been very aware that someone’s finger has been on that switch, just waiting for me to get too out of breath, or too angry or upset. I have been avoiding all those things, of course. But I am only human. Some days I feel like screaming out, ‘Just do it, get it over with!’ As I get sick and tired of all the waiting.
But other days, I am adamant that I am going nowhere, that I still have things to do. And I think that says it all. I should be going somewhere, but somewhere else.
As I sit here, looking out of my window at my all bonsai trees, they are waiting for Spring much as I am; snowflakes begin gently falling. They will not survive this time, I think, the ground is much too wet. But it is trying very hard, falling thickly now and getting nowhere. Nothing to show for all that effort. Why does that sound so familiar?
That is how I feel most days. Nothing much to show for all my time here on earth. Nothing much left, anyhow. When I climb out of the grey misery, those days when a little brightness peeps through the clouds, I have been wondering if there may be time for one last adventure. One last valiant effort to find some peace, some quiet beauty. Time to actually create something that will outlive me.
I think I have the strength for one last effort. I must have, for the courage has never left me. It seems to be all I have left…