everyone's so miserable come mid-december
The first snowfall of the season punctuates my time off work, sick. Complicates my return come tomorrow, no doubt. The commute may be a nightmare, even by morning. It's a pretty scene, though. A substantial layer of stark white dust dresses otherwise barren tree branches.
Once, my grandmother, drugged up in some way following a doctor's visit or hospital stay, proclaimed, "Look at the pretty trees!" as our car eased past a similar sight. Today, she's hospitalized with the flu.
Still, there are things to be grateful for. She quite enjoyed the hospital breakfast of French toast, for example. My uncle and his cousin cleared the snow off my car. An UberEats flash sale saved me $20 on a price-gouged order of two deli sandwiches and a bottled natural lemonade.
I don't consider the time I was out of work, with what I know now was likely the flu, as time to myself. It was simply time away. Away from work responsibilities, home responsibilities, social responsibilities, etc. As I laid in bed, rotting away, it felt more akin to shedding a skin. Emerging with a new coat more suitable for the impending winter weather.
I've never been much of an optimist. I'd hate to be mistaken as such, but I do think it is, perhaps, not as difficult as I'd previously believed to look on the bright side once in awhile. Every so often, good does come out of seemingly miserable circumstances.
Everyone's so miserable come mid-December because the New Year promises to wash away their pain.