I just e-mailed the last bit of work off for my Norwegian class. The semester is officially over. And…it feels a bit weird. I know, it was just one class. But the vanishing of that one itsy bitsy class creates a considerable shift in time and focus. Soon I won’t have a free bus pass. And when people ask me “Are you a student?” I can’t say yes. And then they’ll ask “What do you do?” and I’ll say…I’m a barrista? A writer? A wife? Goodness, the simplest questions can be so tricky.
But I tell you, I am heartily looking forward to wading into this new year. I want to fix up my workspace, clean the clutter, and fill it with wonderful things that make me feel at home and ready to write. I want to get a library card, research publishers, and get lost in the kids section. I want to find a new rhythm. I want to learn life more as the non-student-whatever-i-am that I am.
The last week or two has been filled with days messy with tears spilling all over in my chest for no reason other than that is the weight of life, sometimes, when I let myself feel it.
I love The Cure. I think deep down inside me, though it doesn’t always show, there is a messy-haired version of me with bright red lipstick that dances just like Robert Smith.
The ice from the weekend storm had just begun to fade from the sidewalks when the flakes began to fall again, today.
In the autumn, I found myself anxious to leave Madison for new cities, long train rides, and the ocean. But as I left work at twilight, and the snowy streets were lit by this town’s sweet lights, I remembered that a good snow makes everyplace magical.
I was going to post about this link, specifically what he says at around 7 minutes 31 seconds, because I like what he says there. Feel free to check it out now. The post will have to wait, because Madison has welcomed December with the first snow of the season. I can’t seem to find my camera’s memory card, so you will just have to take my word for it.
I walked to work in the dark. It was cool out and clear enough to see the moon. People came into the coffee shop as they usually do on Saturdays this time of year, slowly, ready for a quiet morning with the newspaper or dear conversation. Saturday was the same lovely morning it always is.
The snow began all at once, with no prelude of little flakes. People with icy beards and glittery snow-drop hair cozied closer to the fire. It felt like we were all enjoying something very special together. I love that about funny weather; it makes people feel connected somehow.
I waddled home through the snow dreaming of gingerbread, books, and cozy husbands.
