During lunch on Monday, my friend Ann Marie said she felt she had the “winter blues.” “I even think my dog has them,” she added, and I couldn’t help but empathize with her. Despite this winter being the best of my life thus far, other than the cold January night when I was brought into this world, the past couple of weeks have felt particularly (for lack of a better term) blah. I had a lovely December wedding, and in January we adopted two new kittens, but two weeks into February I’ve never been less motivated to do anything. By do I mean really get out and accomplish something, go somewhere, try something different – heck, just leave my house on a Saturday night!
Granted, the plague that has taken over my lungs hasn’t helped. I’ve been hacking my brains out for three weeks straight, but that, too, has become a crutch. “No, I don’t feel like driving all the way out to Cleveland tonight. I have a cough.” As my students would say, “Lame!” Since when did a cough stop me?
No, I’ve had enough of this malarkey! Cough or no cough, it’s time to Punxsutawney my way out of this icy mentality and live my winter life instead of hibernating through it. First on the agenda: a trip to Walden.
I can’t possibly think of a better way for this gal to re-center herself, and while I’m perfectly aware that I’ll be driving to an even colder part of the United States than the one I am currently in, the lure of the Thoreauvian setting is beckoning me.
On Saturday I decided to book my trip, and I begin my trek on the 19th. I very much look forward to trudging around the narrow path that circles the now frozen surface of my Mecca. I can’t help but feel giddy at the thought of eating a delicious Helen’s breakfast sandwich and steaming bowl of Colonial Inn’s famous Indian Pudding. I can envision myself walking down the street towards Old Manse, crossing the North Bridge, and looking down at the still waters of the Concord River. In all of this peace, I know I will find energy. All that’s left to do now is wait; wait to return to my home away from home. Thoreau, I’ll see you at Sleepy Hollow.