Idiosyncratic Stasis 
It’s early December.
The final year of the first decade in the third millennium of the “common era” is drawing to a close and I find myself in idiosyncratic stasis.
I feel very far from home although unsure of where home is or even what it is. It’s not a place; perhaps it’s more a temporal thing, a philosophical thing, a spiritual thing and yes, definitely a communal thing. But it’s one I don’t sense. The world seems to have spun away from me and I don’t recognize it.
After many decades away I’m back in the city of my birth but the family I once knew here is all gone, passed away or emigrated, and the friends I had here as a child and with whom I remained in touch all my life seem different from closer up; it’s probably me who’s changed.
Who’d have thought that Manizales could enjoy a white Christmas? Sure, for the last several millennia there have been perpetually-snow-covered-glaciers nearby, but in the city itself; — never. That is, of course, unless you consider the clouds.
The clouds are blanketing Manizales today, perhaps preening for the possibility of their own version of a white Christmas. I wonder how that’ll make me feel? Nostalgic for the beautiful white Christmases on Long Island; the Huntington Towne House or, even better, that great Norman Castle at the top of Cold Spring Hills streaming recklessly tobogganing teens dodging incoming trees? Or will I just feel a haunting brush of sadness, focusing on the past instead of the present or the future?
The present seems so tenuous right now; it’s hard to understand who we’ve become or how we got here, personally and as a world. My friends seem so changed for the most part and perhaps to them the one who’s changed is me. And perhaps that’s true. Not in my aspirations but perhaps in my perceptions.
I wonder what the future holds.
 © Guillermo Calvo Mahé; Manizales, 2010; all rights reserved