You never really wake up. You haven't seen the sun for weeks. Everything aches. Your car is frozen. Your driveway is an ice skating rink. No matter how much you turn the heat up it seems cold. And it is always dark. It is dark when you get up and dark when you come home. Between you run from building to building hunched over like a Russian. You look like a coal miner with a death pallor that is so pasty white you see every blemish that there ever was. And it is only January.
You are strangely depressed. Errant thoughts of death flit through your brain. And you don't feel like doing a thing. You consider going to bed and not getting up until spring. You could sleep that long. You eat everything and then some more. You set new records for crappy television because you have been inside so long there is nothing else to do. And you have come to hate the four walls.
And you think of moving. Florida. Brazil. Does it matter? Just where it is sunny and warm. You ask yourself every day how stupid am I to live here? Really stupid you say as you watch the snow fall and fall and then you go out and pull your back shoveling. And you go into a deep deep depression that doesn't thaw until April.
And then finally the sun comes back and you emerge one day like a mountain man blinking at the new world. You made it through another Chicago winter.
www.williamhazelgrove.com
The Pitcher
You are strangely depressed. Errant thoughts of death flit through your brain. And you don't feel like doing a thing. You consider going to bed and not getting up until spring. You could sleep that long. You eat everything and then some more. You set new records for crappy television because you have been inside so long there is nothing else to do. And you have come to hate the four walls.
And you think of moving. Florida. Brazil. Does it matter? Just where it is sunny and warm. You ask yourself every day how stupid am I to live here? Really stupid you say as you watch the snow fall and fall and then you go out and pull your back shoveling. And you go into a deep deep depression that doesn't thaw until April.
And then finally the sun comes back and you emerge one day like a mountain man blinking at the new world. You made it through another Chicago winter.
www.williamhazelgrove.com
The Pitcher
