Time. Winter is one of my favorite seasons, because it extends my favorite kind of time - the long evenings of blankets and tea and books and games and conversations that warm my introverted soul. I'm ready enough for the light when it comes, but I can also relish the dim glow of coals and candles.
Or, at least, I could. However, I am currently in a life-season of spring-going-into-summer (everything is growing, everything is in need of figurative painting and patching and weeding and watering, but I haven't really gotten to a harvest yet and it's certainly too buggy and muggy to even consider an evening walk) which isn't particularly compatible with my vision of a quiet winter's night in.
Spending my days with two-under-three in a second floor apartment does often mean that my beloved walls of time are broken down like individual Lego bricks - a chapter here, a row there, a sip as I walk by the table - but all the little pieces add up to a pretty picture in the end. I've just traded an 8 piece puzzle for 500 piece puzzle - and I know that as time moves on, it will also change. So until I circle back around to afternoons filled with reading and evenings filled with quiet, I'll just have to use the moments as best I can, embracing the time I've been given in whatever form it takes.
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