I couldn’t have been more than thirteen, if that. My friend Tyler and I were inseparable during this summer and one afternoon we found ourselves at his father’s work place. We milled around outside while his dad disappeared indoors; I remember that it was hot, and the bricks of the building magnified the heat from the concrete, baking me alive.
It’s been a weird week and I’ve been trying to put out a post since Monday night, but I just couldn’t seem to wrestle one out of me. Last night I wrote to the point where I was happy with what I had put down—a far cry from Monday. But I figured I’d continue tonight and complete all the thoughts I started. I still have one more day of work, and then I feel like the real test will begin. I’m not sure what has made me feel this way, but I hope I can figure it out.
I came to the realization this morning that I like winter more than I ever let on. I think it started when I was little and saw the Empire Strikes Back. The opening scene with Luke on his Tauntaun, traversing the landscape of Hoth in a blizzard struck a chord with me. When you’re a kid in Grande Prairie, winter is all you have.
I have one more shift, and then finally, after sixteen straight days of work with only two Sundays off, I can be free. There’s real poison in the ice cream now, and it’s in every bite. Even if my bite is as sweet as can be, someone at the table beside me is choking. It’s a stressful way to spend my days, and it does a real disservice to the headspace available, but hey—I suppose that’s work for everyone.
I stayed up far too late last night, as the timing of my post could tell you. I didn’t feel like daylight savings time had really taken effect until tonight. It’s six o’clock and it’s practically twilight out there—I didn’t miss this at all. I’m worried about my seasonal depression coming back early this year, but I think it’s a baseless worry. I’m a different person now than I was last year, and though I don’t expect to sail through this winter as a happy, carefree boi, I think my life jacket will do a good job of keeping my head above water.
It’s so late. I’ve lived through one a.m. twice now thanks to the Cher-like powers of Daylight Saving’s Time, and I’ve yet to crack my word count for the day. But, here’s the thing. This sixteen hundred words, it’s just about the novel for National Novel Writing Month, and I work on my short stories every day now in the spirit of that, I put out twelve hundred words tonight and finally finished one of them.