General Thoughts During The Course Of A Cold Boring Day.

America, Isn't There A Better Way?
It is extremely cold at my present residence, I  noticed by the weather forecast that neighbors all around me are probably contemplating hybernation until the spring thaw.  While there are lots of things we can do in our woolen socks and snuggly bathrobes, there are only so many "good books" to read and favorite re-runs one can watch. I usually start the morning with the warm cup of coffee and the newspaper, then return some phone calls, reply to emails, I check my "to do" list for drips in the sink and light bulbs that need replacing. and then I put on a pot of something steamy and aromatic to tempt me into a fit of hunger. (as if I need an excuse to eat comfort food) 
These cold winter days offer us a retreat from all the work, worry and hurry days. They give us time to reflect on what we really want to do with our lives. These solitary days, whether locked in with our families or locked tight away all alone give us time to think about what really matters to us.

As I sip my morning coffee, I think of my dad and all the cold days just like these that  he got up so early and
warmed the battered old jalopy that barely got him to work every day. But get there,  he did and he came home every Friday with a check to spend on us.
I think of my mother, (mama, we called her). Yes, I remember mama; as clearly as the author "Kathryn Forbes"  remembered hers.  I remember how she always knew how to make a cold day fun and interesting. My mama had such an imagination... then she became ill. I remember her last day on this earth. She was wrapped in sweaters on a cold day like this one.  so early one morning that it was still dark out.... Daddy was out warming the car and mama was worried about us kids.... "You make sure  you make up with Rebecca" she said. (it was all about a spat we had a few days earlier) somehow I dont remember the spat....but I remember mama, I wrapped her scarf around her head... kissed her and hugged her (but not for long enough.)  Daddy rolled her out to the car in her wheel chair for another trip to dialysis. She got home around lunch time, but she couldn't wait for my work day to be done. She passed away before I could clock out at the end of the day. Things like that make jobs seems so insignificant.

I remember cold holidays with friends... Like Mary Hoyt who lived on Emory Circle in Atlanta. She was certainly the social butterfly... She managed to care for her aging parents, two grown sons, her husband and a full time job, as well as entertain 1/2 Atlanta at her cozy little cottage across from Emory University. Its so easy for people to get caught up in gossip and jealousy. People can be pretty cruel if they put thier mind to it. Mary had her share of spats and manipulations, but these phases passed through her just as surely as the cold North Wind blows through winter into spring. She brushed her hair from her face in the manner of Scarlet O'Hara in "Gone With The Wind" and smiled her way right back into the hearts of those she had just devoured. She was honored at the hospital (where she worked until her death) with a memorial painting of a scene she had dreamt of. Cancer took her shortly after that. She'd buried her parents, made up w/ a long lost brother and arranged for her sons and husband to be provided for. Once again "work" seems very insignificant in this scheme of such things.
There are so many people who come and go in our lives.... Some who don't care to be involved with us....some afraid to admit that they wish they could have one more chance with us. When I really think about it, I just wonder what we really save ourselves from when we let our fears, pride and discomfort keep us from reaching out to those we long to be close to. What's the point of sitting like a knot on a log daring the other person to apologise first?
When it's my turn to go quietly into the night, I wonder if there will be a chance after this life to make up for lost time? Another winters day has just come to a close. I watch the winter sun slide over the mountain, and as I sip my wine, and I wonder what reminds the world of my existence besides the candles that I light and place in my window every night.