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Do you ever walk through a room and all of the sudden stop and wonder how you got there?  Not there, like that spot in the room, but there – the place of your life that you brought you there.  How on earth did I get here?  And then I remember all the wonderful little nuances of my life that brought me to that place and they are ever so happy, and yet in that moment I feel lost – like a foreign being in a strange country.  It's not a new experience – I remember having it as a little girl. Feeling my spirit express displeasure in this mortal tabernacle of life.  It's like I don't belong.  And it causes a sigh of momentary displeasure and contempt for this world.   

Do you ever slough down into a cushiony place at 9:00 at night and sigh?  Feeling the weight of the day finally release its hold but then you realize you'll have to get up and do it all over again.  And then you reflect on the events of the day and wonder was it really worthy of a re-do again tomorrow?  And yet you're not real sure how to spice up the sequel?  Or make it more attractive than the day before or the day before that?  But you can hope it will be.  But then you realize you are working with children – which is like working with dogs.  And you recognize that its useless.  But you know better.  Never useless.  

Do you ever feel like you're moving through sludge or thick water?  And you want to do things, but you prefer to escape into a book or a show or anything that allows you not to think about what you really need to do, or think about.

Do I ever.

I am Meredith and forgive me as I move slowly, poetically (admittedly badly poetic) through my post-holiday blues.  It happens every year.  It gets better, I promise.