January Thy Name is Vulture

My bones are picked clean. Stark white and absent of anything to give. I am as dry and hollow as a long forgotten well.

The past weeks gathered around me taunting like school yard bullies threatening my spirit and taking away my strength. Leaving me as empty as a pocket void of lunch money.

I am even short on words. Notice the lack of posts? I do. I want to write, truly I do. I just have nothing in me. And if something happens that even so much as flirts with post possibility, by the time I sit before my computer I am either too tired to type it out or cannot remember - for the life of me - what I was going to write. Evil brain.

January has been unkind and harsh. Like a bitter old woman, cold and soulless. And because she would not have your warmth, she spreads over you like a disease. Tainted, your thoughts begin to chill and your heart starts to harden. I hope January is in no way portent of the next 11 months. And just why do we think of January that way?

My best friend Sharon used to call this month Suckuary. I say 'used to' because this year she set her mind to not being contaminated by the witch's viral hand - she was successful. I've read several other friend's blog posts on the topic of disdain for January and although I understand their aversion, I would not (normally) agree.

I myself, love January. I delight in the docile grayness of the sky. I savor the rainy days, holding on to them like fresh cup of coffee. All year I wait to feel the cold wind, the kind that races past your face taking your breath with it. The darkness that lingers long in the morning and waits till the last moment to leave in the evening. How the trees disrobed of their leaves seem to search hauntingly for their identity, which has been strewn across yards like so much laundry waiting to be washed. The deep hibernation of nature - life on hold, waiting for a new start.

So you would think with all that to enjoy, for me any way, this month would not have taken its toll. But it did. The tax man has exacted his fees and then some. I do not mean to whine so. Sorry, perhaps you've stopped reading by now because of the dreariness of it all. But it must be said, it must come out.

And so, it is with impatience that I wait for February 1. Yes, only 2 days away but as a friend of mine says, come on ice cream. She uses it in an entirely different context, but I think it's fitting.