MY SISTER CALLS IT BREAKFRIST
Sugar crystal slush cover on the ground, the yard, the car this morning. Slickery noises as the car tires skid and catch even at a snail’s pace on the tight turns in the neighborhood. Halfway through the morning, a glance out my window reveals huge fat white feather-flakes slowly drifting downward; nothing sticks. The only way is through. Through the darkness, the cold, the wet, the dreamtime of winter. Just as everything natural is slowing down, turning inward, hibernating, our calendar and schedules and lives are speeding up: full speed to the holidays. This time of year is always grueling...