one way of ignoring the dark

it’s been dark by 5 for two nights now and i’m already over it.  spring, you can’t come soon enough, even with your rain and mud and wormy smell.  it’s hard to celebrate the fact that it’s been light at 7am for two mornings now when it’s so darn dark so darn early in the evening.

it’s tempting to crawl under the covers with a pile of good books and come out in, oh, may.  but apparently i have a child to raise and a husband to converse with on occasion and a few other obligations, so here i stay in darkville.  to cope, i’m reminiscing about the days when it was light until 8:30 or 9pm.

ned and josephine got into a little rhythm of evening pre-dinner walks.  josephine has a small collection of push toys and they would select one and take it for a walk around the block.  it left me with quiet time at home to make dinner (possibly a sad-sounding luxury, but a luxury nonetheless) and left josephine with great memories.  to this day, every time she and i walk down the block (which, might i add, we have walked down together MANY more times than she and ned have), she says “this is where i walked with dada and ducky.” and so it is.

on the night i came along, there was a stop at the gelato place around the corner.


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