Except for one month, I wrote everyday for 12 years. I remember vividly the
winter
afternoon I stopped such a habit. It was a few days after my 36th birthday. I'd taken the day off from work. And just like on any day off from work I had been lazily sitting at the table after a long lunch.
I was staring out the window instead of scrolling through
Twitter
. It was that kind of day. The same news bits that would normally stimulate me didn't beckon me. Whatever was happening out there in the 'world' seemed unconnected to me. At least on that day. So I sat there staring out the large windows out into the street.
The
snow
caught me off guard. Similarly to not checking Twitter, I had not checked the weather. Snow was unexpected. It suddenly made me so happy that I finished my coffee, brushed my teeth, and bundled up so that I could take a walk outside.
Different thoughts come to one when they are walking as opposed to sitting. And further, even different thoughts come to one when they are walking in gentle snow. The kind of snow that doesn't cause car accidents. The gentle virgin untouched snowfall that comes out of nowhere and catches you by surprise. When it comes, it's always nice to have someone to call your 'own'.
Unfortunately I was walking alone. I had nobody to go to. Nobody who would text me right now asking whether I wanted to go on a walk with them and then have dinner together. For much of my twenties I lived alone in a one bedroom apartment with my
girlfriend
of the time, but now I lived alone in a three bedroom house.
Such thoughts were what greeted me as I walked in the gentle snow. My life. Who was in it. And how this had been the first birthday I had passed alone. Flashbacks of
birthdays
of past reeled in front of my eyes. Family Friends. Big feasts. Random people showing up. Over the years all of it had dwindled into smaller and more distant gatherings until finally at the age of 36, I was caught with nobody there to spend it with.
As a young person I had known some older people who were reaching their 40s who were scared of this phenomenon. But I had never feared it myself. Instead I had actually embraced the idea of not having to celebrate a birthday. Not having to entertain people who were wishing me well for the occasion. I thought I'd celebrate by myself the day when nobody reached out to tell me 'happy birthday'.
That's what I thought. And yet still when the day finally did come, I didn't feel that celebratory.
This is not to say that I felt tragic, depressed, or lonely. Definitely felt alone, but not lonely. It wasn't even a different day compared to any other day at the time. However, it was now, walking in the snow that I could feel the day again. This time it felt more strong, like I was reliving it.
Damn this snow I thought. Why couldn't it remind me of happier memories?
At the corner where one of my favorite trees were, I looked up to see that the broken branch was still hanging there. I had seen it about a couple thousand times now. Each time I saw it I thought the same thing. Somebody ought to call the city and have it removed.
It was a very large branch with two forking arms. The joint of the fork is where the branch was held up by another branch. If the wind ever blew strong enough at the right angle that branch would finally fall off. Chances were slim that somebody would be under it at just that moment, but who knows? It was still possible that a person might be passing under at that exact moment when the branch falls. If it hit them in the head it could hurt them. Maybe even kill them.
I should call it in, I thought. I patted my pants. I hadn't brought my phone with me. I would call it in the moment I returned home I told myself. And then I continued my walk.