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Start it up again.
Yesterday I went out for some socially distanced family time in the countryside with a few cousins who live nearby. It was lovely - about an hour north of New York, cold enough it gnawed instead of nipping until I walked enough to warm up. It felt like an Andrew Wyeth painting with all the leafless trees and grassy walking fields with blackberry brambles growing high along the sides of the paths before the woods began. I walked onto a frozen pond and stood out on natural ice and felt the texture of the water underneath my feet. The pond hadn't frozen all at once: there were ripples over the surface, giant grooves that I could slide over, and trapped bubbles that tried to escape. Moments of motion caught until warm weather comes and they slide away again. Change always comes.
One of the cousins got into baking this year, like most of the world. When we finished the walk and got lunch ready, he pulled out a box of apple turnovers and said, "I brought these."
I pulled out two large bottles of hard cider and said, "I brought these."
Rarely has such a set-up been so open, so joyful, and so sweet.
It was also the second time this month I'd had a drink. After a very inebriated November, mostly giving it up for December was easy. I say mostly because I figured two kinds of situations would be okay: a ritual sip for Friday nights, and if I was ever eating a meal with family. Just before the big cold snap at the start of the month, I ate at a restaurant couple streets over and had a glass of prosecco. Yesterday, I ate outdoors in the woods and had a glass of hard cider. Both were made better for having been aware of the situations I was in.
I'll try to keep this up for January, too. It's been good to recognize where and when the impulses come from.
One of the cousins got into baking this year, like most of the world. When we finished the walk and got lunch ready, he pulled out a box of apple turnovers and said, "I brought these."
I pulled out two large bottles of hard cider and said, "I brought these."
Rarely has such a set-up been so open, so joyful, and so sweet.
It was also the second time this month I'd had a drink. After a very inebriated November, mostly giving it up for December was easy. I say mostly because I figured two kinds of situations would be okay: a ritual sip for Friday nights, and if I was ever eating a meal with family. Just before the big cold snap at the start of the month, I ate at a restaurant couple streets over and had a glass of prosecco. Yesterday, I ate outdoors in the woods and had a glass of hard cider. Both were made better for having been aware of the situations I was in.
I'll try to keep this up for January, too. It's been good to recognize where and when the impulses come from.