Cutting Edge

The early afternoon sunlight struck a beam of golden glow onto the kitchen table and the apples on it I had cut up for my lunch. The warmth of the almost rainbow colours playing on the sliced fruit belied the bitter cold outside. I thought about the old saying, " sharp as a knife ". My son had just left for the weekend, and I felt his sudden absence like an unexpected cut, probably more intense because of the almost complete absence of family all together around the Holidays. A few days ago I had dropped a small glass jar, and the shards had scattered like pellets in a freezing rainstorm. Now I found myself shaking off the sudden emotional pain of my lonely feelings like so many small pieces of broken glass. It hardened my resolve, as the sting of tears threatened to break through. I was fine. It occurred to me I was in danger of cutting myself on my own pain. It was a strange sensation, and I was determined to quickly get past the feeling of helplessness that I had not planned for. Our cat Tigger was sleeping, snoring deeply on his blanket on our bed, he too bathing in a golden glow of afternoon sunlight. I was not alone, he was there, and so was our dog Yara, who was all too happy to go feed the birds and squirrels some seeds and apple pieces. She barked with great authority and importance, which brought a smile to my face. The sharp edge of the knife in my heart was fading, steadily with an unfaltering logic and precision. I had much practice with this, and was delighted to notice how quickly the sadness melted away, like ice in warm water. The warm water was my self confidence that over time had gotten much stronger and much better at disarming any sneaky attacks of sadness when feeling helpless or alone. I had noticed this Holiday season that for the first time in many years I had truly enjoyed Christmas and all its associated and expected cheer. Today was the first time I heard a small tear happening into the fabric of my hard won resolve. A sense of calm and acceptance took over as the sun faded on the last days of the year. I sighed contentedly, anticipating a cozy dinner with my husband, and a fire in the fireplace. Cutting edge. It sounded elegant. I no longer felt the sharp edge of the knife, only its logical precision that reminded me to stay alert,to stay grateful.