Happy New Year...

To The Lady on the Train,


We have come to the threshold of a new year - a step away from leaving the past year and walking into the year to come. We mark this passing of time by looking on back what has happened, what we have done, what we have not done. We make promises to ourselves to improve ourselves, our relationship, to pay better attention to what is important to us.. We mark the milestone of the year like leaving pebbles on a path so we can look at where we have been and to imagine our brighter futures.


We will count down the death of this year and start the next held in an embrace and a kiss of a loved one. In silly hats, with noise makers, with smiles and shining eyes, we will turn to the ones we are with and let our hearts be filled with hope for them and ourselves. Behind our smiles we will silently mourn the losses of the past year, celebrate our joys and we will know that one does not come without the other. And we will know that this is strength.


With smiles affixed and glasses raised in cheer, each of us holds some sadness within. In our own private thoughts, we will toast to the future; we will sing away our sadness; we will sway our way towards a hopeful and Happy New Year.


Love,


The Man in the Station

Waking Christmas morning...

To The Lady on the Train,

I can imagine, in the very early morning of Christmas day, you asleep in your bed. The house quiet in the normal way that a house still makes noises in it's sleep; a furnace breathes, a car slowly rolls past outside, a distant whistle of a night train, someone turning over... It is quiet and there is a glow of moonlight on snow that finds it way in.. Bedroom, hallway, and living room bathed in silver blue of the night.

I imagine that you are the first to stir and slowly rise. Pyjamas, slippered, and with wild hair you head downstairs silently except for the creak of that one wooden stair. In the blue early morning the light is magic the way it fills the room and yet isn't there.. And here you will sit a moment, curled up on the couch,  listening to the sounds of the house the way you listen to a sleeping lover.

I can imagine you wrapped in the magic of Christmas morning, in a house filled with love and magic... and the promise of miracles to come..

The Man in the Station

Merry Christmas...

Merry Christmas Love,

My thoughts are always with you and I wish for you every happiness. May the coming year be brighter than your imagination; may all your days be filled with love; may your dreams take you to secret places filled with magic.

Just me.

Winter Pilgrimage

Angel,

 

We have come to the threshold of winter and the darkest time of the year. Temperatures have dropped below freezing and the city is blanketed with snow. The lake beside which this city is hunched is a black abyss by night and in the day it is an expanse of cold steel. Daytime only makes the sky flat and we can barely tell where it meets the horizon. Sounds are hushed but for the wind and all of our colours have been stolen, leaving only cold grey.

 

Days like these leave me feeling empty and hollowed out and the only thing that blows in is a chill wind. It is hard to hold onto joy when the world is like this; flattened between an endless oppressive sky and muddied snow sidewalks. Even Christmas lights and streetlights are dimmed and distant. Ones spirits cannot easily rise when you cannot tell which way is up.

 

In the evening the temperature drops as the sky darkens to lead, and I kick at hardened brown snow that has been pushed up onto the sidewalk from the road. Traffic light change from one Christmas colour to another without joy but simple mechanical efficiency of getting through the day. I trudge my way through the streets under a darkening sky like a lost pilgrim and let my thoughts wander. Though my feet often lose their way, my thoughts always find a way to make it back to you.

 

Even before I am conscious of my thoughts, the wind blowing through the hole inside of me has calmed enough for some small candle to be lit. My feet carry me forward and the mist clear enough that I can picture the shape of you and soon will be able to imagine your face. I find myself talking to you, imagining you answering me. I imagine entire conversations with you and in this way I hold you close; and in holding you close I am able to find some colour in the world. I am able to hold this little candle for a little while.

 

When one is lost, sometimes a pilgrimage and a vision is the best you get to help you hold onto a little joy.

 

Just me.

Winter is coming...

To The Lady on the Train,

In this early December morning, we are only days away from winter solstice, the longest night. This season the cold came late and sudden. Only two weeks ago we were still in jackets and hoodies, laughing at how we have dodged the coming season.

Now we bundle dark layers, covered heads bowed against a wind of daggers. Shuffling and stomping like cattle trying to create our own heat as we wait for trains or trollies or buses. Our voices are hushed though the metal sounds of the city have sharpened. Even streetlights shine a cold edge, cutting the night.

The sky brightens in the east and the sun will break red over icy clouds that rest just above the lake. The day will push out the long night but won't bring to us any warmth. We will have to brace our hearts and bodies for the long deep cold of winter. 

The Man in the Station

I miss everything

There are so many things that I miss..

I miss seeing your face and hearing your voice.

I miss getting texts from you.

I miss being asked where I am.

I miss being asked what I'm doing, what I'm thinking, where I'm going.

I miss telling you those things.

I miss knowing that there is someone thinking about me.

I miss feeling connected to you.

I miss hearing about your day.

I miss listening to you debate with yourself and second guessing almost everything.

I miss knowing your heart and mind.

I miss knowing your joys and sorrows.

I miss being the one you looked to whenever you needed something.

I miss everything.

I miss you.

You...