I really don’t like the cold, the layers of clothes when leaving the house, the chill on every inch that is exposed. I really don’t like all that snow, piled high and doubled up by snowplows, thank you (not)! I really don’t like the darkness, mornings and evenings all the same, coming and going with no light in sight.
So, is it over now, finally done? Man, I sure hope so! The trees are still bare, the grass not yet green, the flowers just poking their heads out of the ground. But raising the hope that soon I will have forgotten these dreary days, these depressing weeks of obscurity, these months of isolation.
Then it will be light, and bright, and warm, and nice, making me wonder how long, how long it will last, until that day when the first flakes will fall again.
A vicious cycle of sadness, fostered by illness and pain.
Ingo
