I walk to the glass sliding door and open it to look out. A stiff wind is blowing from the north. White, voluminous, fast moving clouds are rolling overhead. The chill of winter is in the air and I feel the corresponding dread of it in my bones. It’s still dark outside. I slide the door shut and sit down at the dinning room table to write. I sip herbal tea, which although warm, reminds me of how much I miss coffee. Luigi is curled up on the sofa, sleeping. Dogs never have insomnia.

This winter…I am not able to finish this sentence.

Better to stay with right now, this small moment. I can deal with now. There is no way I can deal with “this winter” when I can’t even deal with “November,” the darkest, bleakest month of the year. Better to stay with the one moment I can deal with.

Yet, my thoughts drift back to yesterday evening, to Andree’s going away party that Rob and I attended. Andree is leaving, going back to her hometown, Quebec City, after 22 years. Andree is a great singer, a great talent, but Toronto has been withholding, short on luck, long on grudging. Toronto has worn away at her spirit, as it does to a lot of us; enough of singing in bars and restaurants where people would rather talk eat and drink and the talent should be background noise. Meanwhile, on the radio there is noise which has become foreground talent. The world appears upside down now. I don’t blame her for leaving; I would leave too, that is if I had a hometown to return to.

I continue to struggle with the idea that I should throw in the towel on my musical aspirations. It’s been too long since I’ve had any strong indicators that I should continue. I seem to be forever in the wrong place at the wrong time. I feel as though I’ve been standing at the roulette wheel and placing one stupid bet after the next. The worst thing of all it that it hadn’t felt like gambling until now; I loath gambling, lotteries and game shows, so to realize that I have allowed my life to become more and more of a crapshoot is not exactly comforting.

I miss my Dad. He would have been able to calm me. His presence alone acted like a buffer against that which was wrong with the world. Perhaps it was his loving presence which I took for granted that leaves me feeling so unprotected now. But if I narrow it down to this moment, just this moment, I’m good. Anything beyond that is like fast moving clouds and things that don’t bode well.

And so yet another day begins…