My cell phone lies gasping on the desk in front of my keyboard as I relentlessly poke it every half minute to keep it from falling asleep, the desperate, “LOW BATTERY”, warning on the screen blaring at me, pleading with me to leave it alone. I am persistent, however; my finger pushes it towards that long, dark night so that it may become born again, virginal and fresh. The charger is both the resurrection and the life — in the world of Motorola tonight, there is little mercy for the sacrificial lamb.

The shadowy darkness of the living room seems to heighten awareness of the small sounds that are normally background to the hubbub of life but now punctuate the twilight even as my eyes lose their grip on specific details. Computers whirr and whoosh softly, their internal fans gently blowing a cooling draft past heated silicon. The clackity of my fingers on a keyboard like so many unchoreographed tap dances is met with a rhythmic shuuck-CLICK, shuuck-CLICK from across the room.

My baby son, cranky and gassy from the many relative encounters yesterday and the odd schedule of the holiday, rides on a pendulum of sleep. Moans, groans, and whines softly emit every so often, but the steady tempo continues to be tapped out and he is lulled back to the dreamworld. The furnace fan kicks in and a slight whoosh! is heard as gas turns into flame and heat arises from the basement. The phone lodges another complaint, bitterly.

These sounds surround me, bathe me, as the darkness cuddles me here in my chair, the stark whiteness of the screen ahead of me the only harsh element in this horizon between light and dark, the greynesses of early evening, the shufflings of a winter sifting down through the slate sky and settling in a blanket over the landscape, claiming all green things to brown, active to slumber, warm to cold.

And me, and my thoughts, find free reign in the middle of an otherwise chaotic period of time, the beginnings, endings, and continuations that plague all of us and rob time from our fingertips and years from our chests. Even as I allow myself a few precious moments to tap out some wayward thoughts into this neglected forum, my mind is both enthusiastic and loathsome of the many background issues awaiting attention — lists of projects to finish, paperwork to be approached, meals to be negotiated, life to be navigated.

If I allow myself, I can prompt it instead to wander down paths less travelled, the roads to other minds, thoughts, and hearts, future dreams and ambitions, mental and physical needs yet unfulfilled. These are overgrown trails, a track to be followed, yet the caretaker woefully absent of late and the trimmers lying in repose for far too long. Flowers in this secret garden still bloom but are covered by sheets of weeds and neglect. Walking down these aisles is an exercise in exasperation; a realization that there are things to be done, but the starting point is difficult to pin down.

And yet, here in the start of evening, I have the sense that the winds have changed and the last season is drawing to a close. I am not yet through the gate and into the garden, but it stands before me now, its outline discernible from the rest of the wall, subtle yet visible hints of a direction to head and a world of options beyond its weathered face. I might still be fumbling in my pocket for the key, but I can now see the knob and I know, instinctively, which way to turn it.

Drifting back to the present place, I shiver in my hoodie, the chill tendrils of the frozen tundra drifting eerily across the floor and wrapping themselves around my ankles and spine. Despite the warmth deep inside, my skin still tingles from the touch of ice — the dampening forces of a world hibernating from the harshness. As I — as we — go on, the fear and trepidation will never leave me, this I know. They inspire the foolish to be wise, the timid to be brave, the lost to be found. The family tree of Good and Evil ends up being circular in nature and first cousins are kissing more often than not. Opportunity begot Strife, Pain begot Pleasure, and the clock ticks onwards…

I sigh, contentedly, as the darkness settles in deeper; night has come, but my eyes shine forwards in the dark to light the path, and I smile as I take the first step of many towards that new day.