Living in the north brings many ends of years like this one.
It is well below zero on both the Fahrenheit and Centigrade scales. A look at
my window shows strange shapes covered by snow, and I have to think of what
they might be. The sky has even less definition than the broad expanses of
snow. It is a light gray tending almost to an off-white. All this is nature’s
analogy to one’s life. Looking back, I see the strange shapes of memories past,
and I have to think of what they might have been. Overall, life has been like the
winter sky and neither dark and gloomy or bright and sunny. For me it is the
off-white of a life that is neither dark or sunny, but one
best observed by looking back from the comfort of my chair. Warm in the comfort
of a life lived without brooding regret.
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