By Maryanna Gabriel
"It was so wonderful to be there, safe at home,
sheltered from the winds and the cold. Laura
thought this must be a little like heaven, where the weary are at rest."
- Laura Ingalls Wilder, The Long Winter
Am lost now in a dreamy cloud, in a hazy world of white... there is a reason I am here, I tell myself. Like most mysteries, the reason will be solved, after the fact. Patience.
Who knew? There are fashion statements one can make with hat, scarf and gloves and articles on what to wear when housebound. Sort of a combo pajama and leisure number. Have been madly knitting. Then there is the problem of cookies. What kind to make and how often? It's a good thing I like to write, I tell myself. The hours vanish when I am working.
Life was so busy last year. Now I am stilled. A fresh blanket of show has fallen and there is no way I am driving. I find myself going over a short story that is making me crazy. It has almost been accepted twice. When I rework it, I wonder if I am just making it worse. Like a painting, there is a point where the image loses freshness and as I add words it seems a balance is lost. But by now I am stubborn. So much has gone into it. I suppose if writers gave up, a lot less would get published. I think today, though, I am done. It has been too long since a good read.
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| Reading on a snowy day. |