In a little over a week, it will be Halloween. For years, I have taken Halloween as my personal holiday. Ever since we had a home of our own, I have been going all out decorating it for the day, typically choosing a theme. Over the years, we have acquired quite a stash of decorations, including skeletons, skulls, bats, spiders, and fog machines. Yes, machines, plural. 3 to be exact.
This year, I have little energy for Halloween. I promised my younger son I would put together a Dalek costume for him, and friends and neighbors have been asking me what the theme for this year is.
I have some ideas, but the truth is, I am uninspired. It may be a result of returning from our overseas trip to house chaos, and the fact that we still have open walls/ceilings and exposed plumbing.
I want to tunnel under the blankets and not come out until spring, and that is not like me. I have always loved the winter, its purity and starkness. We even had show showers this weekend, and that would usually have me doing the happy dance, anticipating good skiing come full winter.
Perhaps I am seeing the slowing down of things in a different light, given my parents' fragile health. Perhaps it is realizing that my husband will soon be the age his mother was when she died. Perhaps it is only my own mortality I fear, seeing how tenuous it all is. How quickly it all changes.
I think I need to practice gratitude. It is the only way I know to banish this self-indulgent fog. I have so much to be thankful for and I forget to cherish it in the here and now. Perhaps it is easier to live in fear of what we can lose rather than revel in what is in this moment.
Please forgive the whining. I am just working through something.
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