Unknown

Samhain is seven days away; the Veil has been opening little by little for nearly six weeks now, the vibratory thrumming from the Other has been constantly in the background. It is the thrumming, along with the tree frogs and crickets, that I notice the most as I sit in the screen porch in the dark silently sipping British Blend tea from an old, cracked cup. There are other cups, but the tea tastes best front his one, it seems to have a history about it. I'm certain it was bought at  a flea market for just a few pennies. No one other than Jane would have bothered buying it, but it was probably cheap. Dishes and cups seem to be disposable in this house, as do clothing, and at times, people.

The backyard is pitch black. There are still a heavy umbrella of leaves to block the moonlight. Tall hedges block the neighbors on both sides. All I can see are the edge of the steps and the hanging bird feeder in the ambient light from the kitchen. The tea is good and comforting. The darkness- the Unknown- is disquieting. Somewhere a mournful train whistle is blowing. It is the only sound besides the crickets and the thrumming.

I should not be on the computer at all right now: my bed is full of Halloween decorations that need to find a spot on the shelves. I have been telling myself this for nearly six weeks. I love Halloween, it's my favorite holiday, and I look forward to it with Christmas-like anticipation each year...but to be honest, I have been depressed for weeks and don't want to do much more than I am doing right at this moment...except that I need another cup of tea to ward off the chill.

I did manage to take some things out to the recycle bin this afternoon and to cut a piece of wooden trim to fit into the casement window so I can wind the purple icicle lights around and hang them, and sit the 40+ year old blow mold ghost-holding-a-jack-o-lantern on the sill. Although it may not sound very productive, pushing through the depression/apathy makes this an actual accomplishment. Later I sat on the rolling chair in my room and unloaded all the Halloween things onto my bed in the hope that it would inspire me to start decorating. Instead, all I really want to do is ramble and drink tea.

Sitting on the porch as I type in the dark does neither. In the darkness just a few feet away, on the other side of the screen, lurks the Unknown. The other side of the screen doesn't feel threatening, just cold. Not being one who has ever been afraid of the dark, I am not eager to check whatever has just made footfalls out in the Unknown...probably just a cat or a fox...Maybe something else. I'm not certain I really care, I just want more tea.

I wonder if my ancestors ever gave in to this type of lethargy. I wonder if any of them ever had more pressing things to do, but stayed close and safe drinking tea instead while the great Unknown lurked just beyond the door.