A dull colored Christmas morning
Updated: Dec 29, 2018
A chill is in the air on this early Christmas morning. Coffee in hand, I head out as dawn breaks to take a walk through a nearby field. Looking out on gray skies, the field itself filled with dreary tans and browns with no snow to brighten things up, the scenery before me seems dreary.
Crunching over frozen switch grass and slopping through mud puddles, I continue walking as black-capped chickadees follow me along the tree line, chick-a-dee-dee-dee’ing.
Stopping from time to time to take a sip from my coffee, I gaze out over this field, a field that I have walked countless times over the years.
I find myself taking stock of my life, looking back over the past two years. I’ve achieved a few things that I have worked hard for and I’ve failed at a few things as well.
I’ve had my heart broken twice. Once by a person and once due to the loss of my beloved dog, Digger. I’ve found that it does not get easier as you age; having your heart broken hurts just as badly as it did when you were younger, and seems to take longer to heal. I shake my head, wondering if I will ever learn.
I stop once again and stand. Looking from one end of the field to the other while emotions rise to the surface. As is my habit, I tell myself to take a deep breath. Breathe. Be still. Pray. Look around. What do I see?
At first I see nothing but the shades of brown and gray sky. I begin walking again and startle a bald eagle out of a nearby tree. I watch as he flies, catching an invisible wind current. So majestic and silent.
I continue on my walk and brush up against a weed causing a small flurry of fluff to float around my face. I stop to wave the little white pieces of fuzz away and notice where they came from. I notice the intricate details of this “weed” and begin to see the beauty in it.
I realize that I am surrounded by beauty within the dull colors of winter. I had just forgotten to notice. I take a deep breath and take stock of my life again. Nothing has changed. The hurt remains, but I can breathe and at this particular moment in time, that’s enough.