"November always seemed to me the Norway of the year."- Emily Dickinson
There has to be a lull somewhere between the Halloween high and the Christmas climax. And, right now, I'm living in the lull. If October's the peak of the season, November is the bleak of the season.
Where we live, November proves to be the darkest and dreariest page on the calendar. The days are short, dark and cold. The sky is opaque and drizzly. The leaves blow away and the pumpkins turn soggy. Kids start sniffling. Everything in my closet is grey, black, brown.
Just as I had convinced myself to put on the Nikes and drag the twins to the gym this morning, the school nurse called. My fourth-grader got sick all over the schoolbus and would I come get him right away, please?
Which explains why I'm sitting in unsweaty gym clothes, listening to the Cartoon Network, tapping on my laptop and looking dejectedly out my window.
This is my 39th November. I know it won't last forever. But today it feels like it might.