10 Months

22 Jan
Willow tree in front of a frozen lake

It will be ten months tomorrow. Ten months. I remember everything about Ana’s last January. By then we knew she was dying, but we didn’t know how to say goodbye. I wish I could fast forward through the next two months and get to spring, but of course time takes as long as it needs to take. There is no circumventing this most painful of seasons. I tried though. I took a walk on the rail trail with Roo. We only went about a mile on packed snow, up to the first part of William’s Lake. Roo loved it, but it hurt my feet to walk on the snow for so long. Anyway, I tried. I got a poem out of it too.

William’s Lake

I’m on the winter trail
plodding forward with aching feet
blinded by sharp sunlight
on endless snow,
alone with my burden.

The lake offers no relief.
Its frozen water mocks my thirst.

Every part of me longs for spring.

I tell myself the lies of the lonely
Imagining that someone, anyone
might slog along with me,
and ease the thick links
of this heavy chain
from my bent shoulders.

By my own reckoning,
my sorrow is so cumbersome,
you will flee from me,