January, usually a cold, quiet month, hasn’t been that cold, but I’ve been so tired. Through the slog, I managed a weekend train trip visit to my friends and co-workers back in Roanoke, Virginia. A bolt of creative inspiration struck me and I started a new passion project, a middle grade manuscript that’s as personal as it is fun to write for me. The Philadelphia Eagles are going to Super Bowl LVII and my favorite tennis player won the 2023 Australian Open, his 22nd title.
Work has me busy with proposals. On weekends, my best friend and I gallivant to new coffee shops. My gym, a treasured athletic club and piece of my hometown that’s been around since the 80s, is closing. I’ve been getting up at 6am every day to squeeze in a workout before it’s finally shut down. I joined Goodreads and already completed my local library’s winter reading challenge. The pleasant, monotonous, steady, and robust winter days go on.
I desire more quiet and rest. Screen time during and after the workday does not help my already lackluster sleep schedule. My fingers hurt from typing so much. I’m recalling my January as a reminder to pause, not to reflect or think any further, but simply for the sake of pausing.
January, a month of the gentle cold, has been a strange battle between rest and running. Pausing is a necessity; I need a bit of peace throughout my work-filled days by the computer. I need to stop feeling so tired. Winter is a reminder that even flora and fauna need quiet. I walk in the winter to see leafless trees teeming with squirrels and streetlights flicker on, to get away from my computer and phone and to pause.