(no subject)

Winter in Oregon means it's just as light at 7:30AM as it is at noon, which is the same as 2:00PM and the same and on and on until it's dark, and it's so damn dark when it's dark.

It's the kind of weather that makes me want to curl up with a cup pot of coffee and a cat or two and something fuzzy on my body while I read an engrossing novel about loss and death. And this weather will only last a season while slowly, slowly small bits of green will appear on the branches and twigs and barrenness outside, and then one day, the whole world will pop open with pink and white flowers that will drop their petals within weeks while the yellows begin to open, followed by the purples and the reds and then the oranges, and then the sky will be blue again, and after being gray for so long, the blue of the sky will seem lucky, like a double yolk or five dollars in the pocket of long-forgotton jeans.

This winter is survivable.

In one hour, Jesse will be home, and then we will get in the car, and we will drive to look at the ocean and the interminable rain and the battleship skies, and Jesse will tell me that I'm not allowed to listen to what's on my ipod because it makes him want to do heroin.