ON THE DARKEST DAY OF THE YEAR
On the darkest day of the year
I watched the sun go down, and I felt afraid
I saw my choices recede like the light
I am too tired, I thought, too tired to fight
On the darkest day of the year
I need someone to hold my hand
Someone who remembers the sun
Who can remind me how to have fun
Will you hold me my dear?
Lend me a good ear and comfort me with a cup of good cheer?
I promise it won't be as bad next year
I'll be relieved to say
That on my darkest day
I had someone to hold me dear
THE COST OF HANGING ON
I saw the highway before and behind and all around me. Everyone moving forward in a steady stream. The white Honda Civics, the sedans with good mileage and the SUV’s with the big sized cup holders and screens in the headrests and lots of space for all the kids’ things. A few Jeeps too, here and there, the smiling couples gazing at each other adoringly as they cruise past me.
Past me, because I was slowing down. There was a little turnoff just ahead, the sign warned me, something about strawberry jam. It was a farmstall, next to the highway selling pineapple strawberry jam. I parked and went in and well did they have more than just jam!
After, at the till, the woman told me about the next little town that had a glass blowing workshop, “Well, I’ll certainly be stopping there!” I said.
I didn’t even glance at the parade of sedans and vans on the highway, not even the cool jeeps and sports cars. I just turned my little car onto the country road behind the farmstall went to find the little town with the glass shop. And then the next town after that, and the next one after that.
I stopped at vineyards and orchards, rose gardens and animal parks. There was a longer stay at an artist’s commune, but when the power went off, I moved on again. My little car filled up with postcards, jams and glass that reflected the sun and shot rainbows across the dash.
Sometimes, at one of these cafes I see one of the SUV families. I stare as their children howl for attention, or an ipad maybe, and at how they seem to move in all directions and yet the same one. I turn and see one of the Jeep couples, holding hands, sharing memories of all the places along the highway they stopped. Places I never saw or knew were there. I talk excitedly about my places and memories, and I show them my jam collection. They smile gently and then they get back into their Jeep and back onto the highway.
I watch for a bit as their car gets smaller and then gets lost among the others. I pay my bill and get back into my little car and turn down the country road, to the next little town.