'The Winter of My Not Quite Discontent' by KK

Winter in this small southern town is an experience apart.
I remembered the cold, of course, the rain and wind, the screaming feel skin has, from being under so much clothing for too long.
But for over a decade, I've avoided being here for this.
In the past, by August I would be going on a trip to a warmer place, north or Indonesia, it was rare for me to be here for the whole of winter, but the end-of-the-world has caught me, and the place I've ran from, is now the best place for me to be.
For the end-of-the-world I imagined I would be with my man, my kids, and others, camping in a hot dry place, well equipped and plentifully stocked-up, engaging in
tasks like gardening and hunting, establishing new rituals for a new life, like harvest-time orgies, and getting drunk while making hot compost.
It sure didn't turn out that way.
I'm alone, not in a very remote place, with less material possessions than I've ever had, my stock of food amounts to what would be in an average pantry for a week, I haven't even kissed a man for over a year, except in my dreams, and my new rituals mainly involve the broom and trying to keep the dirt out.
LOL
Boy, was I an apocalypse romantic!

Winter here, surprisingly, hasn't bothered me, much. Yet anyway.
It's been so different, new again, and after my winter clothes arrived from another town, I haven't been cold, much.
To quiten the scream of my skin, I've been swimming and surfing, it helps, but not as much as the touch of a man's hands.
I've loved laying snug in a warm bed listening to the rain pound the tin roof.
The shining white and yellow flowers on bushes and small trees.
The bowl of hot porridge on the 'verandah' as the sun slowly rises through the trees.
Glorious, stupendous sunny days that make me feel I'm on drugs when I'm not.

Yet, its been while I've been laid up with a flu, that the deeper aspect of winter here revealed itself to me.
It takes you into yourself.
Burns a hole through layers of distraction, avoidance, enjoyments, happinesses..
In, in, in.
To where all is not quiet peace, where the hidden truths strut their stuff, and the dark lord sits on his rusty throne.

Lucky there are months left of this winter, for me to get familiar with the dark lord, I have a feeling I've only just begun to look