Surrender to The Silence

I've been silent. I've been silenced.

I was chased back into my hole. I had slowly started to peak my head out, to crawl up from the inviting gloom, to gingerly gather my courage up into a ball, cradle it in my palm. I had poked the very tip of my nose out, taken my first timid sniffs at the air, weary of danger. And then she came along, brash and crushing. I retreated, ungracefully, my feet not moving fast enough on this unstable ground.

And there I hid for the rest of the week. The more I fought myself to get out, craned my neck to blink my tired eyes at the sun, the deeper I slipped back. I dug in, I clutched at blades of grass. I exhausted myself.

As the days passed, I gave in. I hunkered down having decided that I was going to be there awhile. Perhaps I would give it another go when Summer called, but Spring was certainly facing a losing battle. But with Surrender came Sun, seeping in like an oil slick, touching the edges of Me, warming skin inch by little inch, highlighting the niceties all around.

An uninterrupted rant over a salad.
An unexpected note of encouragement.
A gifted container of soy ice cream.
A cry of Anya.
A sleeping kitty warming feet in the morning.
A single Pink Lady.

Surrender is a funny thing. Fight, lose your footing. Give in to the inevitable sinking, soar.

Brought on by: Operation Nice.