Winter reflection
November 13, 2008
Some days drag at your heels like a dog that won't go home. Go on, get out of here. You turn your back on it for seconds, minutes, then hours. But when you turn around it is still there, sheepish. Get out of here! You throw a stone, and bewildered, it takes a few steps backwards looking up at you with sad eyes. Sometimes, a day just doesn't know when to quit.
In retrospect, I shouldn't be disappointed with you. To be fair, you are the rule, not the exception. You are a gray crayon. In a world of color you are lifeless, dull, and ground to a stub on account of being rubbed against the page again and again and again. In a whole world made of window, you wipe the frost away from a tiny spot with your tiny finger and peer out condescendingly.
Tags for this piece: relationships winter dog disappointment