it is not enough to dance in the sunlight, we must find joy in the rain and warmth in the deepest cold, only then will we know living; heavy gray days are an opportunity to search ourselves for the light of our better angels; to live up to them - to find the brightness on the most raw of days - is to live a good life
Tag: life
Gray Days
on these gray days when the rain is a cold threat upon the air my bones ache along the cracks of old injuries, my joints are stiff with reminders of the years gone by - years filled with laughter and heartache - these pains remind me I have lived, they tell me I will die, they show me, today, I am alive.
Faded Beauty
Her face was pinched with exhaustion as she slumped into her seat on the train and leaned her head against the side of the car. Her eyes closed for a moment and her head nodded forward, before snapping back into alertness.
There was a faded beauty at the edges of that face, fighting to hang on. The red hair was faded and the blue eyes didn’t hold the normal Irish ice color from being set against ivory skin. Now they leant more towards the gray storm clouds of endless cares.
Hers was a face beaten down by a succession of menial jobs taken to eke out a living as opposed to work that might get her ahead. She never advanced as the inevitable always happened: some lonely customer would come in and make a pass at her and she’d tell him where he could stick his ideas about love. She’d be fired in an instant, management choosing the brand as opposed to the rights of a $10-an-hour cashier.
She twitched in her seat. Jittery. She’d never once stuck a needle in her arm or anything up her nose. She wasn’t one of those. Right now though, she was desperate for a cigarette to ease the tension in her mind. Her hands bounced in her lap, and she thought of reaching into her bag for the pack she knew was there. She shifted in her seat. Her hands went to her hair. They went back to her lap. She crossed her legs then uncrossed them. She went into her bag and pulled out a cigarette. Holding it in her clenched fist, she felt calm.
There was a heaviness to the sadness in her eyes as she looked to the ceiling of the train. She didn’t know if she believed anymore. The years since she’d arrived in the “land of opportunity” had soured her on faith, but still she raised tired eyes in the direction of heaven and asked god if this was what he’d intended.
She wasn’t surprised there was no answer. She slumped in the seat and moved the cigarette to her lips. Her hands twitched around her lighter. The train rattled along and she stared toward the familiar nothingness out the window, waiting for it to be over.