I got myself out of my chair. I moved because staying in that chair would
have been giving unspoken approval to the unnoticed hurt, the pain of jealousy,
the crippling anger of selfishness. And
that is how February is. This time of
year, without snow, Illinois
is very brown, Very brown. The low arc of a winter’s sunny day brings a
deep blue backdrop to the brown earth and a quick end to the day. Inside my
house, at night, I am a small figure taking a small space in the dim light of
electricity. Inside my kitchen, on a
chair, at the short edge of a table, in the evening, and I wonder how I appear, from the outside, through the window, to a stranger passing by while walking his dog. When he looks in, does he know that I made a
mistake? Do I know he did too?
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