Meditations: Winter

A Column

by Lucinda de Leeuw

Winter

Winters are cold. Winters tend to be drawn and dim and there is little dance between the hours. Winters are painful reminders of what we lost along the way. Winters are memories waiting to happen. Winters are the pennies you hope to find on your midday stroll. Winters are the walk to the car against the race of the grey morning air. Winters are the close of the day; it is the promise of another. Winters are the sounds against the window pane as the neighbour turns out their light and you are left to bask under the spotlight of your own thoughts. Winters are the ceilings that threaten to cave in while you struggle to hold up the weight of the world. Winters are the insomniacs of the seasons. Winters are the feasts you eat alone. Winters are a feast. Winters are malnourished; they take and take and are never satisfied. Winters are what we have gained and lost. Winters are accumulated nothings. Winters know how to spell, but they cannot read. Winters are a paradox. Winters are the performers of falling in and out of love with the same apparition over and over again. Winters know how to torture. Winters are an abstract art; almost always a blank canvas. Winters are like waiting. Winters are the tears you wish you never had to cry. Winters are an ache that no physician can remedy. Winters are the climbs you take with no summit in sight. Winters are the floor of the ocean. Winters are the broken pieces of ceramic strewn across the floor, both at your feet and across the room. Winters are the hours you spend every day with no return of investment. Winters are every fight you fought and did not win. Winters are every defeat. Winters are all the things that cannot be fixed. Winters are what is missing. Winters are an absence; it is the laughter missing from my day; they are your assuring eyes; the embrace of your voice. Winters are heavy. Winters are the reason. Winters are you.

Winter is a memory waiting to happen as I count down the seconds until we meet again.

Until next season,

Lucinda.