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Thursday, December 4, 2014


The changing from summer to fall was hard for me this year. The darkness, the cold, it all got to me a little more than it usually does. An added change is the silence. The house has never been this quiet. This house was built for a family, for children and screechy bows on violins and fingers on an untuneable piano. It was built for a thousand footsteps, for tables full of school work, for books read in quiet corners. It was built to be full.

And now it's quiet. Nearly empty. Rooms with closed doors and lights that never turn on.

My life is simplified. Uncomplicated by long talks with siblings over dinner. My friends live in other cities, states, on other continents. My work is settled now after the urgency of summer.

I wrote to a friend about this silence, about the darkness, and she crawled under this heavy cloak for a moment and then said in more words than this, maybe you need more.


Maybe you need more.


It's possible to simplify your life to bare shreds. To strip away the wheat with the chaff.

 "Ideal" is individual-specific and it changes with its own set of seasons. I read somewhere once that "balance" isn't even an ideal at all, and I tend to agree. I'm on some other side of a winnowing, a paring down, a simplifying, and now I need more. A lot more.






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© The Attic at Anderwood Maira Gall.