The Darkness

The end of daylight savings is apparent, already, as though the curtains have suddenly been drawn. It makes a Tuesday night seem even less bearable than normal with the darkness so early in the week, constantly, ominous for the days that follow. No respite for 3 days. No hope until the weekend. Or am I just being dramatic and just having one of those weeks? I have working arms and legs. I have a roof over my head. Isn’t that what they say? If you have food to eat and a roof above, you are doing much better that a lot of the world. And here I am complaining about a few extra hours of dark.

Oh, the dark.

The autumn is beautiful. I've only just noticed. The yellow, the orange and the red leaves. All that colour does the heart good. Have I been that busy not to notice? The leaves are yellow and brown falling from the trees, already. Yellow, orange and red surround me, but is quickly falling away.

Soon the trees will be bare, and the nights as long as they are going to get, the sun in short supply.

It’s kind of a shame that the days have to get so short and everything has to fall away, that we have to be stripped of so much, holding our breath, slowing to a crawl, before we can breathe, and stretch, and drink in the light once again, like it is never going to end, like it always will be. How quickly we forget. Collars up, coats drawn in tight, layers thrown on, it’s going to be dark, and cold, and probably wet, no complaining thanks, it’s not like you didn’t know.

The abundant colour of life. The cold, bare sticks of death. The delicate buds of birth.

“But, of course, we like to complain.”

“It’s our middle name, homo complaining sapiens.”

“It’s a hobby, a pastime, a way of life.”

“Of course it is, if people didn’t complain, some people would never speak at all.”

“Not a word.”

“Not a word.”

“As my grandma used to say, If you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”

“There are a lot of people who never got that memo.”

“Half the human race.”

“Oh, I think you are being a little unkind.”

“I believe I am being generous.”

“Is that irony, if you think about your grandmother.”

“It’s not irony, if it is true.”

“By the very definition.”

“By the very definition.”

“But is it true?”

“Oh, so true.”

“People love to complain?”

“Love to complain.”

“Why do you think that is the case?”

“As I said, with some people that actually wouldn’t have anything to say.”

“Harsh.”

“But true.”

“So true.”

“It is easier to be negative than positive.”

“How so?”

“Being negative you just have to go to the painful bits, and revert to being a toddler. To be positive takes a certain amount of creativity, you know, seeing how things could be.”

“Like visualising the days in summer?”

“Instead of staring out the window into the dark.”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”