Invictus: Part 3 - "The Wolf Age"

As I sit here in the cold of a garage, as I have for about five weeks now, I ponder the upcoming Full Wolf Moon which will occur on Monday evening. Monday, "Moon's Day," February 17, 2022. Up to about a week ago, the coldest three-week spell that I can ever remember around here occurred. It never got above about 48 degrees, and dipped down into the 30's on a number of mornings. Although that is not unusual for many parts, for me it's more extreme since I am living in a garage with no heat, and no bed.

Today when I returned from an errand, I saw where the renovation team had emptied the upstairs refrigerator. It reminded me of one of the earliest lessons that my mother had taught me: Never waste food. Perhaps she may have thought about being cold and hungry at times as a child during the unforgiving winters of rural northern Wisconsin. Now she is gone, and I must go on, struggling to meet a lessor opponent than she had met.

In about a week, I must leave this place permanently, and I have already used up a lot of favors. There is a method to this madness, but it's easy to lose grip of it as events control me more than I control them. I don't recall of ever absolutely having to seize opportunities when they present themselves, amid many very dark down periods. For me now, this truly is "The Wolf Age." During this time, I have contracted a condition called chilblains from my fingers and toes being subjected to incessant cold. It's difficult to sleep from the painful swelling of he blood vessels. As I literally shiver now on this Saturday night as I type this, should I complain to someone, or maybe just cave in and quit?

Should I just take on a negative attitude, feel sorry for myself, use some sort of pain killer, or perhaps just become a bad person? Or... should I think of my father who died on a lost highway taking care of his family, my sister who died in battle near Beirut, or my mother who worked as a shipping/receiving clerk for sixty hours a week to keep our home going after they were gone? If they're looking down upon me right now, would they think I'm showing any courage, or at least resiliency? I think this is still a true test of wits and will. My numb fingers and toes are proof enough of at least that. The coyote howls from down in the cold dark canyon now symbolize more than just a fanciful reminder of nature, but of the harshness of life's struggle. This time it's not just talk.

Once more into the fray...
Into the last good fight I'll ever know.
Live and die on this day...
Live and die on this day...

-- 'The Grey'

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