Small pockets of grief have stayed with me this past fall and winter season. Grief over the plights of so many around me who are in unfortunate and dire circumstances. Frustration that I can't do more to alleviate some of that pain. Do the efforts of the individual count? Only locally, and in a small way. These are bleak times.
And having said that, I find joy in these grief-filled spaces. Love for my family. Standing in the backyard for a few minutes and listening to the ambient sounds of the 'hood. Reading library books while tucked away in my flannel sheets. Putting on quiet emotional music while cooking comfort food.
But anyway. I'm looking forward to this year. I feel that good things are going to happen, and the existing good things will be maintained. Not much to complain about, right?