Grey Clouds Hover

Life! One day rushing to collect kids, stopping for the dry cleaning, and praying the slow cooker is indeed cooking; and the next strolling down uncluttered lanes, contemplating absence.  How did we get here?  How did we dream so big and land so humble?  Gone are big homes and hefty mortgages. Hell, we’re down to one car. Sunday dinners with the family are memories and nowadays, my head spins to think of cooking for more than we two.

Now we speculate about time left.  Ponder what distances will support us.  Shall we travel, avoid the winter months, and if so, will our health cooperate?  Will the children understand?   Forgive my melancholy.  The silence is echoing off the walls, and I am reflective today. Not in a good way.  I’d best get myself outside for some fresh air.

Time slips through fingers
palms reaching outward, hopeful –
Fall’s hues distract woe.

(Written for Twenty Four’s 50 Word Thursday, and dVerse‘s open link night. Photo supplied by Deb Whittam)

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Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

45 thoughts on “Grey Clouds Hover

  1. It’s not so bad. Think of all the time you can spend thinking your own thoughts instead of worrying about other people’s washing and sports’ kit. And who wants a hefty mortgage, or more than one car? We’ve only just got our first! Make the young folks do the travelling and don’t get a guilt complex!

    Liked by 1 person

      1. We haven’t got rid of all of ours yet, and of the four that have left, three are sharing an apartment not too far from us. The eldest is about fifteen minutes walk away from them, so nobody is far away. I don’t think I’d like to be any real distance from them.

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  2. Those of us mid-winter in our lives, looking back to the past a lot, can have those dark days, when regrets sprout like poison mushrooms. I stay busy; poetry helps me a lot, writing it and reading it. Add poor health to the mix and even travel is mostly let go of,

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    1. I know you get it Glenn. I write, read and paint – fills most of my days. Today, I itched to get out – it’s been rainy and gloomy all week. In the end, I took the walker out and got wet – it was something.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Good choice! Better to brave the rain rather than to join it. Hurrah for Autumn hues! But it’s ok to be melancholy a bit too, otherwise the hues don’t burn as bright. I love this honest and lovely Haibun!

        Liked by 1 person

  3. we need the melancholy too or how would we be gifted with such beautiful words like these. i am glad the seasonal colours can distract you, i feel a watercolour emerging from that.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. transitions and changes, seasons of time, in life, the weather – and there is nothing quite like Fall to either boost us or drop us into weary depths! (sometimes it really does suck lemons) – and this poem /haibun really asks and suggests just this – but fingers outstretched and reaching means there is still possibility – and that, even if it doesn’t really feel it in the moment, is a good thing.

    and as you noted in one of the comments, “better than cynical” — and that is a really good attitude to hold – better to be melancholic, perhaps, from time to time, than to become bitter and cynical.

    Liked by 2 people

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