Shoveling snow in the gathering dark, the fat flakes melted on my cheeks, still hot from crying.
Sometimes it’s like this, and today it was (although tonight we’re better.)
It felt good to throw my body into the rhythm of pitching wet snow, after arguing (sometimes we’re in direct competition for the same things: time, mostly.)
And I have begun to be aware of how everything is always close, always just under the skin of the moment. Starts. Finishes. Hurts. Exhaustion. Glee. Laughter. Eggs cracked in a skillet. Post-it notes rumpled and forgotten. Self sabotage. Determination. Making it through the day.
The snow, tossed to the side of the path was aqua blue beneath each nook and chink, where the chunks would fall and align, making shapes, silhouettes of other-worldly castles in the dark. Today it was like this. Some tears. Some self doubt. Some frustration. And snow. (It’s still falling.)
When things get messy, what do they look like for you?