Maybe

Maybe I’m just drawn to the wonder of it all.

I’m not one of those constantly optimistic people, but I do always look forward to what’s to come. Like, tomorrow something magical might be waiting for me while today, I have no idea it could be out there at all.

Maybe an email about an exciting professional opportunity shows up in my in box. Maybe my favorite summer tour is announced. Perhaps a friend calls asking when a good weekend would be for a visit because airline fares to Portland are too good to pass up right now. What if I finally win one of those Instagram contests I keep entering for a weekend getaway to a cabin in the woods when a quiet snow is expected. This way of thinking is quite effective at getting me through the darker winter months. If just tomorrow, something amazing drops on my plate, then we can keep making it through today.

And that keeps going.

And going.

And going.

You get the idea.

This way of thinking can also prevent me from finding out the answer to something thinking it might lead to disappointment. I’m not sure if that’s healthy or not, but it is what it is. Like when you have a letter in your mailbox that might be the thing you’ve been waiting for, forever, but you don’t want to open it in case it comes with bad news.

“We went with another candidate”

“You were not selected as the winner, but here’s 7% off our most expensive item”

“We couldn’t approve you for the loan to remodel your kitchen, but we can give you a credit card for a new refrigerator”

You know the kind of things that might be lurking. So it’s a weird cross between eternally hopeful and eternally hesitant, I suppose you could say. If you never turn that corner, you can keep hoping that good news is just out of reach… just waiting for you.

In other, less obscure ramblings, each day I’m only mildly feeling better. I mean, I wasn’t sent a gauge to compare the severity of a cough or level of fatigue to, but I imagine mildly is the most accurate way to paint that scene. This isn’t unusual for me. I’ve found that I take forever to heal these days, but it’s been ages since I’ve been sick so I suppose I’d forgotten that fact. I used to have an assistant who would comment on my lingering cough after a really bad case of the flu in 2015… as if I had brought TB to the office. I think she was generally disgusted with office life as a whole until the day she retired, but that’s neither here nor there. The cough just lingers – not getting better – not getting worse – just getting along. It makes for an entertaining hour on a Teams meeting – of which I’ve had a surprisingly large amount of this week. I do appreciate the outpouring of well wishes after my last post – a thank you to those who commented on the post, and a thank you for those who quickly headed over the nearest social media platform to tell me that they both loved my writing but hated the news. It’s okay to like the way bad news is delivered.

It’s a skill, perhaps. The delivery, not the appreciation… well, maybe both.

We’re also at the end of the first full week back to work post holiday. Leading up to the holidays, my weeks tend to be short… and if their not, they at least end with a holiday party or some kind of sparkly fanfare. So this first full week in January is a zinger. The alarm is fairly rude… each day I set it a few minutes later than the day before. Each day it’s morning song is just as rude as the previous. This week reminds me, more than any week, that I’m not a morning person. My first hour of the day is spent slowly sipping coffee (that I can’t fully taste yet but I know the caffeine is there) in hopes that I’m still sensitive enough to it that I’ll eventually feel more like myself. At some point, it kicks in and I’m back at it.

This time of year is also slow for a maker. The rush of Christmas has died and people tend to tighten their budgets in January, making up for a few expenses in December that need extra attention. You just don’t buy handmade jewelry or handspun yarn when you’re watching those $$$. I’m guilty of it myself, and yet, here I am wishing people would treat themselves to a post Christmas surprise for their mailbox. I suppose not sitting, perched over my studio workbench each night should be welcome. Instead I spend time with my favorite guy on the couch catching up on Cobra Kai or Yellowstone, eagerly awaiting the return of Ozark… maybe working our way through Seinfeld (it’s my first time through the series, not his, but I think it’s just as funny for both of us).

Winter just looks like this.

Getting over a cough.

Longing for the shorter weeks in anticipation for our next long weekend.

Nights spent in front of the TV instead of in the studio wrapping everything up for summer concert goers or holiday gifts.

I’ll make sure and take time to enjoy this slow routine. These quiet evenings. These sleepy mornings.

After all, you never know what those days will bring.