Snow in country

Freeze, if you will. It’s raining steadily outside, splishsplosh against the windowpanes; It’s the Messiah plays downstairs in that kind of deep resonating alto voice that strikes you somewhere between your stomach and your heart. These moments, comforting as they are, have a morbid draw about them… Christmas season makes me want to smile and hug someone, but accompanying that sometimes, is this feeling of finality, somehow. Year’s end, new beginnings, and some things I still don’t want to let go, roads I don’t want to travel just yet.

Sometimes, however. These much dreaded roads can be so dreadfully banal, and rehashed, like it’s the same story every time, but told a little differently. Like how travel pictures can be sometimes. The itinerary is awesome, it’s exciting, but when you flip back to all the pictures people take, after a while the trees and the meadows and the mountains are the same– bare, green, white-topped– who cares about the place anymore? Anticlimax, really.

Oh well. Breathtaking scenery tends to stir up random thoughts. Haha. I’m missing people, and singing, and singers ): Rain just got heavier, now it’s pounding like it wants to come through my window. If only I could shake a snow globe, and all that rain would turn to snow.

Maybe if I wished harder…