Fortunately, I’m a Contradiction

Paralysis is strength…

Outside, it’s worse than this picture reveals—blustery winds and a feels like temp of -13. Nature paralyzes me.

My eyes and a steaming cup of coffee watch the swirling sheets of snow drift across the road. I stand, stretch, and push my body forward. I creep down the basement steps. The lower I go, my paralysis fades. The door creaks. Musty clutter welcomes me. Huge boxes of flower pots, paper bags stuffed with seeds, and a stack of faded and stained diagrams piled in every corner.

There it is. I brush off the the clipboard. It keeps my stack of fragile, weathered paper, whimsical sketches of my 2025 garden safe. A damp room, a dull pencil wedged in at the top, and, behind the sketches, clean, bright white sheets of paper call to me. I sit. The clip snaps as I pull out the pencil, lean back between the 2X4’s of the make-shift wall, and write “2026”.

This room, it’s a sanctuary—musty, cool, and silent. Hope strengthens me.