Molasses in February

The page is before me. Blank.

My words are like dried molasses in the corners of the carton. I need the sweetness to pour, but all I can do is hold the container upside down and wait. The spoon is shiny, concave in expectation. It trembles in my hand, next to the open spout. What I thought I had within me will not come out. I squeeze and tap, shake and coax. I prop it up against the canister of flour, balance it on the open mouth of the spoon. I can do nothing but wait.

The recipe sits unfinished. The oven is preheated. The goods promised. The appetite whetted. How long will this take?

I have a name for this slowness now that at first was only a confusing cluster of dysfunction in my body. Concussion. My pen feels clumsy in my fingers. The screen hurts my eyes if I stare at it. My mind is off-balance somehow, and it scares me a little, four weeks in. The words won’t come, though I can still sense their presence.

It has taken time and tears just to put these phrases together, and now I am tired. Hungry, too. But I am molasses in February.


Lindsey Gallant


Lindsey Gallant
A northern girl living the island life. Follower of Jesus. Writer, book nerd, nature lover. Homeschool mom and Charlotte Mason enthusiast. Prefers pen and paper.

1 Comment

  1. You have a wonderful command of English Lindsey.
    Your insight and depth of understanding of the Christian walk are amazing.
    You are a gift from God to everyone who knows you ! God bless you.

    “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”
    John 14:27

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