A JANUARY MORNING

I was supposed to go to the gym this morning. You know, new year, new routine. I woke up feeling as though that might be the very last thing I wanted.

It was dark, the air was cold, and out beyond the blinds, the rain was tapping the window.

“Why don’t you go for a walk instead?” asked Sammy. I grumbled in the half light, still only half-asleep. I didn’t want to do that either.

Hello January. The twinkly lights are down. The road is velvet black with puddles and sludge.

We took our Christmas decorations down too last night. Baubles went into boxes, the nativity set got packed away, and we untangled the strings of  lights from the tree. No music. Just the cold overhead bulb illuminating the boxes from the loft. I always think we should have at least something to listen to, but I couldn’t think of it. There it was then: twelfth night, epiphany itself, while the rain fell through the darkness.

I didn’t walk in the end. I just stayed in the warm, listening to the rain. Gradually the sky brightened, and black became whitish grey.