December Thoughts

There’s a lot of looking out of windows from my side of the couch these days. A tuxedo cat nuzzles into a fuzzy white blanket, pausing sleep only to vigorously scratch her face. Cars speed as if the street was a track and time was running out. The sun is light playing on the houses across the street. The stillness is in the magnolia trees, bent over in minutes as the Santa Ana winds make their descent upon the valley.

It is getting cooler now. I descend the stairs and check the AC thermometer, making silent bets with myself. 65 degrees? 68? Sometimes the weather will trick me, playing along with my game. I’m grateful for its trickery. The mornings are cool and clean and even when the sun rises highest in the sky it doesn’t hit our apartment. Instead, it highlights the concrete but leaves us in shade. The apartment remains indifferent to the climbing heat. The cats look for warmth around our human bodies.

I miss the sound of constant airplanes now. The helicopters still search the mountains, hover like a fly over the interstate. But I cannot follow the paths of the metal birds anymore. Occasionally a cargo jet will land at an airport, low and loud, but it is nothing like the sound of bodies being thrust into the sky. I miss being in the sky. The clouds outside the window where I traced their shapes on the plexiglass.

The year ends with more of the same but we are here. We’ve kept most of our sanity. Built the necessary barriers around ourselves to keep the mischievous depressive elves at bay. Somewhat. They still find a way to sneak in when we least expect it. Baking banana bread loaves. Checking the mail. Waking up to zero notifications. They watch us. We take another moment to make ourselves resilient against the onslaught of circular thought. What better time than now? we ask. Now that we have nothing but time?

It’s December where every day is Monday, is Thursday, is the weekend. 3 pm is midnight and waking up to go back to bed. How will we be—who will we be—once things resemble normal? Will we be humans with armor or travelers lost in the woods, finally escaping after three months, sleeping on beds of twigs?

We will know soon. Hang in there.