Looking Through Windows

Elsa

By the time Elsa got back to her apartment from a grueling day at the office, she was exhausted. The apartment was dark, as was to be expected. She flipped the switch, but nothing happened. She tried it again, and still nothing. Kicking off her shoes and shrugging out of her coat, she walked into the kitchenette and tried the light over the stove. Still no light.

She felt a chill go through her. Had she forgotten to pay the electricity bill? There had been a pile of bills on her doorstep the other week, could she have dropped one of the envelopes? Frowning, she looked out through the window. Either her neighbors had forgotten their electricity bills, too, or there was a blackout in the neighborhood.

Somewhat relieved, Elsa went to change out of her clothes and find some candles to light.

In the light of a dozen tea lights, Elsa flipped open her notebook. Half of it was already filled with poems. She’d taken to write down her thoughts as poems, trying to release the pressure that seemed to build within her with each passing day. Especially this time of year.

Oh, she’d smile at work and tell everyone who asked that being alone for the holidays was no big deal, that it was refreshing, even. She could catch up on some much needed sleep, get some reading done, do those dishes that always seemed to pile up, and so on and so forth.

But now, as she sat by the window, looking out over a snow-covered concrete jungle, she didn’t feel anything like that perfectly happy person she was at work. She was bone tired and lonely. Her boss had been hounding her all day to get things done so that he could get home to his family. Good for him. But Elsa didn’t have a family to get home to, hadn’t had one in a long time. The last couple of years she’d managed to avoid the crippling feeling of loneliness by latching on to something – or someone – else, but this year there were no friends around, no on-and-off boyfriends likely to give her a booty-call, no extra shifts to pick up. It was just her. And that had never been enough.

Elsa shuddered in the darkness that enveloped her. She shouldn’t be sitting here, wallowing. The therapist she’d seen for awhile a few years back had told her to not let melancholy seize her in its death grip, but to break loose and do something else whenever those feelings came on. But there was nowhere to go now. The shops had already closed, the restaurants and bars, too. Everyone was tucked safely into their apartments and houses, huddling together in little units of two, three or more.

Was this what her life was going to be like from now on? Was she destined to simply exist until the day came that she would join her parents and grandparents, wherever they were now? Maybe she should join them now.

She recoiled from the thought as soon as it hit the back of her brain, shook off the images that flashed through her mind. No. She wouldn’t do that. She would carry on, taking one step and one day at a time. One day things would be better.

One day.