the first day of the year

a late awakening is the result of nocturnal living, is an occupational hazard, is an excuse.

i rarely meet anyone these days.

today felt like the first day of the year. oh, but it is! it is difficult to enjoy a country when the year wakes to fierce winter. today was easy though, the ground softened by early light and clear skies, and i found time to eat in comfort whilst appeasing the ache that has become a resident in my head these past few days. i took a shower, listened to music and barely complained to myself.

as the day began to set the family left the house and set off into the streets, realising the neighbourhood for a moment. we walked into the park until we were unable to see the houses or hear the traffic. this city holds a strange, green valley in its center like cupped hands, offering. we took to paths and across bridges, following the river, pausing to climb upon small waterfalls in the falling dark. the light shifted below the ruined silhouette of the mill and beyond the horizon and the street lamps grew a cold yellow during our return.

enraptured by the closing dusk, we pitched a different route and talked of plans and the troublesome nature of things, of second guessing a judgement, of the inferred, all the time making progress upon our destination. we asked for better things of each other, to no one at all, and spent energy pursuing our breathy conversations on rising hills, sorry for the inevitable deviation of our paths, one to home, one to work, and neither of us thought of next year, nor of the complaints that rose with the fatigue and bitter wind that stirred the treetops and accompanied our silence home.

oh, happy birthday, mom.

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