14 january 2012, over yonder

Although there's no particular special birthday coming up, mine being either some way away or a few years under my belt, I'm feeling a bit melancholy. It might be that my other half is coming to the end of her degree, that my eldest is making the jump to secondary school, or my youngest having a very strong mind of his own, or maybe it's that I've almost reached the 4-year maximum I've ever spent in one job. I'm watching the sun rise as I write this, a subtle red over the icy white on the ground, with the green across the canvas slowly emerging. The red perhaps is the fire of my ability to thaw the white of that melancholy, and get me to the infinite possibility of the green of the future that stretches to the horizon that even in these moments has become sharper. It's warm in here though, and looks cold in that unfamiliar outside where angels, and perhaps I, fear to tread. No palace was built in a bedroom though, or by someone afraid to take a risk. An armchair's no good to anyone, except as somewhere to sit comfortably, and I'm not sure I'm ready for that, just yet.