At the Golden Hour
When I shot these photos last November it was my first time being able to do much of anything in a month.
Lyme has dropped my body temperature to a degree or so below normal, and it causes issues with my heart from time to time. When fall arrived I could only sit inside and work on my computer in little spurts, or veg out and play videos games or watch classic Doctor Who.
I couldn’t walk much, which meant sitting activities took priority. My joints experience inflammation similar to fibromyalgia so any hobby with repeated motor skills (such as crocheting and writing) were out of the question.
On this evening my family was gone to work or whatever business they had and I was left alone.
I was eager to shoot photos, but there was no way I could go outside and carry the tripod or survive the chill. When I looked outside and saw the colors I decided to shoot some photos whether I was weak or not.
I scurried to the bedroom and carried out my tripod. My legs were just strong enough to keep from shaking as I put on the camera and headed to the window.
A Room of One’s Own
I am well acquainted with the nooks of my house. I know the nicks in the walls and the lines cast by the shadows of corners. I am familiar with the broken weaves of baskets and the marks of wear on the furniture wood.
Five years lived mostly within these walls have taught me much.
Yet, I am unacquainted with the outside world. I am, what most people would call, lonely.
I am an introvert by nature, but five years and only a few friends for short stretches has left me longing for friendship. While I am close to my family they have their own lives and I spend much of my time alone.
This Thursday my sister left for South Korea where she will be teaching for two years. She is the second of my siblings to officially move out of the house this past year. My brother works his own lonely second shift, which means, for the time being, I will mostly be with my parents (when they are around). The house will be quieter.
And life will be a little more lonely.
Living Through Loneliness
In nature, many of its golden moments are stages of dying. Fields of wheat age for the harvest. Leaves change their cloaks before their fatal leap. The beloved golden hour is the finale of a day.
I’m at a bit of a golden hour. Old ways of life, precious and familiar, are waning, and greater, newer mysteries loom where the golden color fades.
Last November when I peeked out the window I wished to go outside. I wanted to run out and shoot photos in the golden sunset, when everything was touched by a dusty indigo hue.
So I took those moments of strength to watch night fall and soak in last touches of gold. In some ways the parting of the blinds it was a lament, a longing for what could and should have been. But it was also a choice to take in the beauty in front of me, even if it was not in the way that I expected.
I think that it is one of the best ways to approach a season of loneliness—to recall that which is golden and remember its beauty as the world grows dark.
It may not slay the beast, but it can quiet it.