Grey Skies

Grey Skies

The loneliness of the morning is catching up to me in the moment and I am thinking I will give into it. I don’t know why, perhaps I have a desire to feel sadness right now. It is not a pity-party but I feel off. The sky is a dreary grey, nothing blue showing. There is a breeze but it is the wind being forced along by the smashing together of cloud formations threatening rain with nothing ever coming. We are, after all, experiencing a drought right now.


For there is no happy medium here in the prairies when it comes to weather. If you want rain you get extreme storms that bring localised flooding and piercing hail and much destruction through wind and possible tornadoes. If you are sick of that then you get melting blazing heat that dries out the clay ground leaving an apocalyptic landscape, which draws out the locusts for the fun of it.

I want to move back home – to the far western province but it is busy displacing its residents in wide-spread fires consuming everything in its path. It seems there is no rest over these summer months when it comes to weather.

I want to blame Donald Trump for all of this because that is about the only thing that makes any real sense.

I don’t like weather. I think I used to but when I moved out here and would catch a glimpse of myself against the prairie sky I realised just how insignificant I was and how overwhelmingly awesome the thunderous skies above were. In that moment I was scared. Scared at the infinity of it all. Scared at the loneliness of it all. How can one matter in a place like this and in those moments I realised that I wanted to matter.

That’s what hurt the most I think when I ventured into different social communities here in the prairies. Very quickly I kept coming to the conclusion that I no longer mattered. From the smiling Family Pastor delivering a potted plant but who told us to not bother making friends because we were only going to be there for the next three years to the professor turned landlord who extorted $700 out of us for not renting his house.

Then there were the religious communities that I desired to be a part of but found that I most definitely did not matter there. My potential was valued but once they got to know me and realised that I was not willing to comply behaviourally then their true feelings about me began to shine.

The threat of a storm and the greying of the skies in this place only seem to remind me of my insignificance and how little people know me – even a little bit – in this place. Many may look to the skies during this bleary grey day with relief and thanks because it blocks out the relentless burning sun for awhile and if they are really lucky it will bring some much needed moisture. But for me it is a dark emotional experience that leaves me contemplating my own mortality.

I am sad and I don’t want to be.

I am lonely and I don’t want to be.

I want to go home…


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