It wasn't so long ago and it seems to have passed out of existence without thought or emotion but recently I heard Counting Crows' "Long December" and it brought with it memories of winters past when the days seemed unending and devoid of everything but lack.
I wonder if I'm saying these things in a manner understandable, because it seems profound to me, how quickly go by the joyful days now. Now that there isn't pining over lost and forsaken loves, spiritual and emotional derision, and the wretched feeling as though the world had moved on and gotten happy without me, while I remained in a loop of "Long December" and Patty Griffin's "Icicles" ("a lot of oysters but no pearls."... "way more darkness than light"). Now I find myself, suddenly, though almost softly, in the world of the opposite. And it demands notice. Glorious day has broken, and I swim in a sea of pearls.
And for these things, I am grateful. And though I know there will be inevitably be both darkness and oysters in my future, I am pleased and humbled by the goodness I hold in my timid, shivering hands.