This Thursday, December 21st, is the shortest day of the year, and thank goodness for that because these short winter days with the dark early mornings and early dark evenings have been sapping my creative energy. I need the glimmer of more light to rekindle my spark for the new year coming.
Maybe you feel the same, or maybe the changing seasons and the greater or lesser amount of daylight makes no difference to you. No matter how your internal clocks chimes, we in the Northern hemisphere will all soon be enjoying increased daylight in incremental measures — and, if you are like me, we will revel in every single second of that renewed light. For it brings us closer to warmer temperatures and longer days outside and, thus, greater internal energy to enjoy what those days can offer.
In the meantime, I will hunker down, burrow into the current longer dark hours, and embrace what creative energy I can find in there to remind myself that I am fortunate to live where I do and how I do. This moment is what I have. I light the candle to illuminate the polar bear, the snail and the bird — all beautiful handmade pieces that remind me of the great outdoors and the wonder of the natural world. A comfort in these short days and dark times. Onwards into the light.
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Short days are ideal for the crafting of tiny stories that arise out of the spark of an idea or a real-life memory, and are spun into being with fewer than a couple of hundred words. None of the ones I share below has seen the light of day so far; so today is the ideal time to bring them out and show them off.
50 words: fiction
This story came to me this summer, as the time approached for us to leave the cottage and head back to the city. While I love our spot, I don't love (and never have) the dark up there in the bush. But nor do I love the harsh brightness of a night in the city...
Darkness in the light
The dark had always frightened her, but this apocalyptic-bright neon-lit city, crammed with strangers, panicked her to the core. She suddenly saw the fool she had been to leave her patch of run-down paradise on the wild and lonely lakeshore, where the bogeyman was imagined, never manifested in “civilized” connections.
<150 words: nonfiction
This incident happened decades ago, but it and the attendant emotions have stayed with me over the years.
Chicken dinner
It is hot and we are hungry after a full day of moving into the new house, so we go out for fast-food chicken. We appreciate the restaurant's air conditioning and take our food to a table at the side. Tired, we eat in silence. I people watch through the window and notice the woman outside, walking with purpose, towards this restaurant. She opens the door. I don’t look, but sense she is moving, with intent, towards our table. She stands right there, beside me. Stock still. Then reaches out. Takes a drumstick off my plate and starts to eat hungrily. Management comes over and hustles her out. I am mortified — on several levels. I am offered a free meal, but I don't accept. I am not who needs it.
Two lists, 45 words each: nonfiction
Below are the two lists I wrote in response to the prompt I mentioned in a recent post. I know they don't tell the full story of who I am, but I wonder if they give you a sense of parts of my character and shades of my personality...It's a fun prompt to play with and, if nothing else, can help while away a few cold dark winter hours.
Things I like: pasta carbonara, sunshine, a fresh notebook, gelato, flowers, movies that make me cry, hot coffee, local asparagus, lively conversation, HB pencils, the wind in my hair, a cat on my lap, texting with emojis, my childhood pony books, comfortable clothes, perennials in early spring, silence.
Things I dislike: the verb ‘grab’, iced tea, indifferent waiters, synthetic fibres, the dark, a messy desk, cutting my toenails, dog poop on the boulevard, being called ‘dear', raw onions, overcooked broccoli, selfish drivers, insomnia, high heels, feeling incompetent, roadkill, urban sprawl, cruelty to children or animals, thunder.
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Land acknowledgement: I respectfully recognize that I live on the original lands of Anishinaabe, Cree, Oji-Cree, Dakota and Dene peoples, and on the homeland of the Métis Nation.
Photo of pasta carbonara by Zoran Borojevic on Unsplash
Made me smile and think and smile again. Thank you
ReplyDeleteWow, thanks Amanda, enjoyed and agreed with most except I LOVE thunder (it gives me such a charge (sorry)), raw onions and am deeply grateful for the forgiveness of stretchy synthetic fabric.
ReplyDeleteWriting from the dark spots, less light, brings all sorts of things to the mind. Great job in your stories, sharing and thoughts on short to longer days, as in short to longer writing and sparks.
ReplyDeleteChicken Dinner. This was a little refreshing. In my creative process I take long walks to ponder the things I see around me. Homelessness is a crisis I am acutely aware of. I have also become painfully aware of the lack of compassion so many in our society have for them. It is often contempt at an effigy people create to dehumanize them. My observation of them, which is much more detailed than most, is that it is a very diverse community. Blaming the homeless for the homeless problem is all to common, and does nothing to address the issue. It isn't all their fault. This is more noticeable among the women, many of whom have it as the only option to abusive relationships.
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