The Color Grey

Yesterday it was dreary and rainy and misty and foggy and everywhere I looked, there was gray.

Gray poured from the sky, for hours. I don’t think it rained steadily, all day long, even once this summer. But yesterday was that day. And along with all that questions that the color grey can bring.

Why can the world be allowed to go grey on a Saturday when all you really need to recover from a week of work is a little bit of color?

What do you do when the list before you stretches longer than your arms?

What do you do when all you really want is to curl up on the couch and read?

What do you do when the colors of fall are hidden in shrouds of mist?

What do you do when your brain feels as scattered as the raindrops?

What do you do when everything around you needs to be cleaned, cared for, put away?

I have two times a year that are difficult. The first time is February when the Ohio winter seems that it may never end. The second is what can be the endless grey, wet days of fall. Autumn is my favorite time of year, but the days of saturated color and abundant blue skies are usually outnumbered by days when the sky drips tears and grey is a bit more than just the color of the sky.

And when the wet days fall on the weekends, well, then the questions roll off my fingers faster than I can type.

So yesterday, I added watercolor washes of color to my life the only ways I knew how. I baked bread and filled the house with the scent of yeast and home. I checked some things off the to-do list and brought a tiny bit of order to my head. We had dinner with friends, old and new. We listened to music and laughed at the local coffeehouse.

They grey days will always come. I won't try to avoid them. I am just learning to be more comfortable living in the questions.