Sorrow Knows No Season, No Respite
Big, fat snowflakes were gently falling when I awoke one morning earlier this week. I’ve been sick for what feels like an eternity, but what has actually been merely a couple weeks. I haven’t been this sick since I was a child, and I longed for my mother’s comforting touch.
Something’s been off lately, and it goes beyond the exhaustion of being ill. This sense of the world not being right has its roots in my soul, and it’s left me feeling off balance. After the kids left for school, I sat at the kitchen table and stared out at the glistening blanket of snow that was quickly forming. It was a Christmas Eve-type snowfall, the kind that muffles the sounds of the world outside. And as I waited for my coffee to brew, it slowly dawned on me that I’ve been so focused on the everyday details of life that somewhere between here and Nov. 3 when I got the...