Winter Sun (Part II)
There’s something especially comforting about being couped up inside the house when the wind is howling and leaves dancing madly to its tune. It seems almost justifiable to ignore the kinds of chores one reserves for the weekend, such as grocery shopping and bathroom cleaning, and instead, find a cozy spot on the couch to crack open browned pages of an old book. On a day such as this, reading takes on an even more relaxed pace than usual. It’s okay for one to mull carefully over the same words or phrases repeatedly, as though each repetition squeezes new flavors out of old words. When a book is filled with such savory phrases - as is the case with Jhumpa Lahiri’s Namesake - the mind’s palette becomes quickly overwhelmed, calling for more frequent breaks in between the storylines. This, too, is quite acceptable, since rereading a book doesn’t require one to race to the finish.
The four o’clock shadow of the winter sun is tinged with some instant regret (over how quickly the weekend is coming to a close) and nostalgia (about how wonderful the weekend has been). On this cold, windy Sunday afternoon, I bury myself in the pages of an old book, wishing those words about a fictional yet familiar world would carry me far, far away from the imminence of a Monday morning.
