Lit a candle Saturday morning in the office nook to imagine I was in a cabin far from everything and most everyone. I have that whole thing imagined: a one-room cabin near water, a wood burning stove with kettle boiling for coffee, and no one around for miles. Lighting the candle in my nook, I was almost there.
The night before a friend asked how I've been doing. I said, I'm worn out and depressed. I wonder how bad I sounded and hope I wasn't too depressing. I can feel trapped in my life. My job isn't great and there seem few alternatives to it. Family life has been too busy. It can all be more than I want to deal with, but Saturday was an empty page on which to write a whole day, so I:
- Shaved my head and face to find myself in the mirror
- Did laundry to clear some dirt and clutter
- Raked and cut the lawn before the snow buries us
- Took down the front-door screen and put up the storm to keep warm
- Visited Mom to deliver a present and connect
- Wrapped a birthday present and smiled at fifty years of deep friendship
- Posted about depression wondering if it interests anyone at all
The good day was brought to me by good sleep. Even my jaw, clenched throughout the week at school, has relaxed and stopped aching.
I did not begin the day out in the middle of nowhere, but I didn't need to. My mind is a quiet, dark, and cold wilderness. I start a fire in there and let the kettle come to a boil. With my pen I light candles in the shapes of letters and words hoping they will provide light enough to see me through the darkness and into some new day.