Gray Day

Gray day. Everything is gray. I watch. But nothing moves today.

It's that time of year, fellow readers. The equinoctial storm is upon us, and today I want nothing more than to retreat into a fortress of blankets, drink hot black tea, and read my book. It doesn't matter what the book is: any story will do as long as I don't have to get out of bed.

Unfortunately, my college courses have other plans. I have an essay on the poems of Robert Browning, a midterm analysis of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, and a stack of reading looming as large as the battalions of iron gray nimbus clouds on the horizon. Now I know exactly how Aragorn felt at the Battle of Helm's Deep!

I'm sure that you, too, know these days, the kind you wish you could fast forward through until the sun starts shining again. In the meantime, my books will be a light for me in dark places, when all other lights go out, as Galadriel said to Frodo. I may not possess the light of the elves' most beloved star, but I do have my stories to keep the gloom and thunder at bay.

Until next time,

Anna