Autumn fading into winter is my favorite time of year when the blue hour of morning comes late, dusk comes early.
It is also the saddest time of the year. Seasonal Affective Disorder is real. I use candles and essential oils to beat back the sorrow that seems to spring from nowhere. I have no qualms talking about obsessive anxiety and obsessive-compulsive disorder. They are better managed now than at any time in my past.
I love the chill in the wind, the hesitancy of my dogs going outside in the morning, the crackle of wood in a fire. We had snow yesterday in Missouri. The last time it snowed so early was ten years ago, while my sister’s family was traveling to visit us for Thanksgiving. A six-hour drive turned into a hellish thirteen. It was the year my mother died. The first holiday without her.
November means I can’t help but miss those I’ve lost. Mother. Father. Brother. Grandparents and friends. Tomorrow marks two years since I lost my little dog Josephine. My husband found her collar this weekend. We looked at each other and grew teary-eyed. But this Friday marks two years since I rescued my girl Bella from Animal Control, a twenty-five dollar dog that gives priceless love.
November is sorrow, sometimes, but it’s also hope. Because good things do happen in this month of changes.