Forecast--snow

A life might be made of assessments. A series of. Then lumps and clumps and bumps. Then reassessments. Reclumps and relumps. When a person learns that something does not work, so a person reworks, until the thing is something different. No one has to suffer. No one has to cry. But someone might suffer. Someone might cry.

Sometimes the new way sneaks in. At night. Or even day. It is subtle. And a person hardly knows that anything is different, but for the old way, when reencountered, as obnoxious as an obnoxious drunk.

There is a period, maybe brief, of remembering. An engagement, of sorts. And then a disengagement. Not a breaking up or a breaking of, but a no. A loud no. A stop whispering no. Not meant to be hurtful. But meant to say I'm finished. I'm finished with this. Not you, but this. People can't be constructed, built to please, but boundaries can be. So I've drawn lines, in the snow, where I need them. Not out of anger. But out of love. For them. And for you.