But the whimsical part of me is coming back. It gave me a little thrill this afternoon.
Perhaps the stories will follow now. That part of me, too, has had a falling out with my self for the last few months.
My world is white, not orange anymore. White and crisp and sharp. Alert. Alive. Freezing cold. Whenever I drive near houses I crane my neck to catch sight of Christmas lights. I wear my favorite gray General Lee overcoat and my black leather gloves, and hot air blows through the car vents on my way to school. My blood freezes every morning as I walk outside, coatless, to defrost my car before grabbing breakfast.
I own a new pair of bright red platform heels that I will really only wear for four hours on some Sundays. But I love to look at them. And try them on right before I go to bed.
I think about taking horseback riding lessons and learning to ski, of making music and movies and friends, delicious dinners and tantalizing desserts, Christmas presents and decorations, scarves and beanies, stories and memories. Homemade pizza. Nothing like it. Birthday shopping. Christmas shopping. Planning life. Long morning walks crunching through snow, my breath puffing hard and white before me as I lose myself in a brewing story. (Yes; I do that.)
New. And Re-newed.
I look forward to an evening, soon, when I will not have to get up early for school the next day; that evening I will spend wrapped in my favorite Iowa Hawkeyes fleece blanket, on a cozy couch, with a fireplace roaring, a cup of homemade hot cocoa at my feet, a bowl of popcorn in my hand and a new movie on the screen (any suggestions?).
Things are changing. For the better. Even after months of stressfull, unnatural Sameness. They can still do that. Ambition, excitement, energy, wonder at life are re-emerging. Whimsical me is coming back. The doldrums are passed. I see a future oh, so promising.