A Bit of Solace

I love families. Can I say that again? I love families. And if I can't be with my own family, it's somewhat of a solace to be tucked away in the hills of eastern Kentucky for a weekend with my room mate and her family. Putting roots down in Appalachia.

This morning the ridge behind the house sits solemn and overcast under a bank of clouds, and raindrops hang on tree branches. Outside the kitchen window the dogwood tree is full of red berries. I feel that red berries will be the ticket to my survival through a long winter. Not eating them, just feasting my eyes on something of good cheer against this untellin' lonesomeness.

"Untelling" is a word I picked up from Brittany. She's an Appalachian Studies major and knows these things. I love it and think it should be in Websters. Where my mom might say, "How many hours of sleep do you think you'll get this week," and I would reply, "There's no tellin,'" I'd say instead, "It's untellin.'"

It's getting cold outside. The birds are jumping around in the dogwood tree nibbling at the berries. Inside, I'm at the kitchen table and can hardly say how pleased I am to be in the center of a house full of a family, Brittany and her parents and two sisters and Michael, her boyfriend. In a few hours, after a warm home-cooked meal, it's back to The Bubble for us. But small delights go a long way. I won't give up hope just yet.