It feels like someone has put a spell on January. A spell that makes each day so similar. That makes each day so very slow. That makes it feel like January is twice as long as any other January before.

We can't make plans. We can't see further than today. And the struggle to muster up energy to venture out for a long walk or to sit and practise a hobby or something, is big.

I waft in and out of fog, finding enough energy to write some thoughts every now and again. Whenever I can catch a quiet moment alone I watch an uninspiring series or a warm comforting film I've seen dozens of times before. Sipping endless cups of tea and nibbling at the Christmas treat pile whilst my waistband grows.

I long for Spring.

Spring always brings an air of hope. The flowers start to bloom, the blossom makes a dull familiar walk so much prettier. And perhaps as time slowly makes it's way forward into the year, we are a little closer to a bit more than just a change in nature.

Perhaps we are closer to seeing our loved ones.

Closer to making rescheduled Christmas plans.

To hugs and to picnics. To adventures and sleepovers. To coffee dates in actual coffee shops.

Perhaps. Maybe. Hopefully.

That's all we have really. Patience and hope. I try to remind myself of these two words. Especially on those long foggy days.

Patience and hope.

Patience and hope.