Word Winding

attempting to spin cacophony into sanity

Looseleaf Serenity

This gap between the holidays and New Year’s is the epitome of serenity.

2017 is gone. 2018 has yet to begin.

It is a quiet time, but not a passive one.

I hold in one hand last year’s dented, grubby nub of a pencil, dull, cracked point leading directly into the faintest glimmer of an eraser. In the other, my fingers tentatively trace along a luxurious expanse of unblemished yellow, buttery pink, glistening silver. Waiting to write the first imperfections, the first aching, beautiful truths.

How I reflect on the past year determines the shape it will stamp out for itself in my memory before nestling down like a sleeping moose. How well I learn its lessons and shed its lingering does-not-serves determines the reception I will give whatever enters stage left.

This week feels out of time, like a blank sheet of looseleaf inserted between two chapters, but like any moment it has the power to alter all that came before and all that follows.

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