In Which Snow is Softly Falling

Before the roads turn slushy and slick… 

Before grey skies loom so pervasive that gloom seeps into the soul, obscuring the memory of sunshine… 

Before the drifts stain with brown and black (occasionally yellow)… 

There is a certain pristine magic to snow. A certain silence rich in hushed affirmation of beauty even in the bleakest weather. A gathering of white crystals tracing inky branches with a layer of lovely.  A bracing pause. A season. A something more that isn’t yet but soon. A wet whisper that clings to your coat, your hair, your eyelashes–but melts when you step inside the door. 



In Which Even Amicable Breakups Have Stages of Recovery

In the past 9 days, I’ve realized that to every breakup there is a season.

A time for tears.
(He’s gone–And now I can’t give him that sappy card I was saving for a special occaision, and my weekends suddenly have far less purpose, and I had the best April Fools Day prank that now I can’t use, and my inbox is so. ridiculously. empty. JUST LIKE MY HEART sob.)

–Hey, no one said the tears were exactly logical.

A time for laughter.
(Yes, he REALLY said that. Men, right?)

A time for anger.
(At him. At myself. At life in general.
Half the time not even being sure at what or whom–You just want the pinpricks of hurt to be pointing anywhere but at the vulnerable areas a relationship exposes, and villainizing someone or something else is generally the easiest option.)

Continue reading “In Which Even Amicable Breakups Have Stages of Recovery”

In Which I Must Take My Own Advice

It’s been a while since I’ve written–a month to be exact.

There’s always a certain amount of one’s own story that belongs to the others who feature in it; and there has been many a time I’ve violated another’s privacy by sharing publicly more than they were comfortable with. I didn’t know how to walk that line well while dating the Physicist; so, having erred on the side of over-sharing in times past, I just chose not to write at all this time around.

But I will be writing more now. And I will probably mention the physicist now and again, but mostly in generalities out of respect for his privacy and personhood. But the truth of the matter is that the physicist is now simply THE physicist rather than MY physicist. As of Sunday, 2.5 months after the officialness of our relationship began, it came to an unexpectedly abrupt end.

Continue reading “In Which I Must Take My Own Advice”