turning with the world

Tomorrow, the world will begin to turn again. The morning sunlight will cast its shadows upon my walls at a time of day from which the previous weeks have shielded me. The coffee will once again be brewed, its fragrant aroma wafting throughout the rooms of my tiny apartment. My backpack will be stuffed with new textbooks, fresh pens, and perfectly lined sheets of white paper. No doubt, I will be frantically rushing from room to room, ensuring that I have gathered all the necessary belongings until my eye catches sight of the clock which will inevitably read five minutes past the time I should have left. I will emerge into the winter day, which will feel much more like springtime with its balmy temperatures and blinding sunlight and for the millionth time I will close my eyes and imagine the dancing fall of snowflakes and a world blanketed in white. But the moment will pass too soon, the reality of Nature’s confusion will remain, and I will set off across the river toward my destination of new knowledge.

Despite my speculations of tomorrow’s return of daily rituals, I do not know what tomorrow will bring to me. I do not know what the river will offer as I cross over it in this new year. Whether it will beckon to me with a calm and subdued beauty or cry out to me in terrified dread…I do not know. I do not know what my destination will bestow upon me, what knowledge will be imparted to my blank mind. I do not know what hopes or expectations or anxieties the day might bring. But I do know that tomorrow my world will once again begin to turn. And somehow, in some way, I will begin to turn with it.