There is something about the changing of the clocks that gets under the skin. This weekend, we turn them back an hour and, almost overnight, the evenings begin to close in around us. The daylight retreats, the shadows lengthen and winter quietly takes its place at the door.
For some, it is a welcome change. An excuse to light the fire, pull the curtains, settle into a comfortable chair and enjoy the slower rhythm of the months ahead. But for many others, the arrival of winter is not quite so simple. The short days and long evenings can weigh heavily on the mind. There is a particular vulnerability in that moment when twilight falls, like a veiled curtain being drawn across the day, often just as people are making their way home, collecting children, preparing dinner or facing another evening alone with their thoughts.
For those already carrying worries, the darkness can make everything feel a little heavier.
And there is plenty to worry about this winter.
Across the Atlantic, the American midterm elections threaten to shape the political mood far beyond the borders of the United States. In an increasingly uncertain world, the decisions made in Washington will have consequences for economies, alliances and ordinary people who have little say in the grand affairs of power.
Closer to home, the cost of living continues to squeeze household budgets, while the price of keeping a home warm remains a source of genuine anxiety. Ireland is a country of considerable wealth and plenty, yet there will be people this winter who cannot afford to heat their homes properly, who will stand in supermarket aisles calculating what they can put back, and who will quietly go without so that their children or elderly parents do not have to.
They are not difficult to find. They are walking the streets of every city, town and village in this country. They are sitting beside us on the bus, standing behind us in the queue and smiling at us in the workplace. Some are neighbours. Some are friends. Some are people we have known for years.
Behind a perfectly ordinary face, there may be a stomach knotted with worry and a mind desperately trying to work out how to make the money last until the end of the week, never mind until the end of winter.
We do not always know what somebody else is carrying. That is precisely why we should be careful about what we add to their burden.
Too often, people mistake cruelty for strength and impatience for honesty. They snap, sneer, dismiss and belittle, seemingly oblivious to the pressures others may be under. We have become too accustomed to the sharp word, the cutting remark and the casual disregard for another person’s feelings. There is enough hardship in the world without adding to it unnecessarily.
Perhaps, then, as the clocks go back, we could make a small promise to ourselves. Each morning, before the day gathers pace and the frustrations begin, we could choose niceness. Not grand gestures or sweeping declarations, but the simple, everyday decency of being sound.
Ask somebody how they are and take the time to listen to the answer. Be patient with the person who is struggling. Check in on the neighbour who lives alone. Offer a hand without making somebody feel small for needing it. Remember that kindness costs nothing, but its absence can be expensive.
We cannot control the darkness outside, the price of heating oil or the decisions of politicians thousands of miles away. We cannot make every worry disappear.
But we can make the days a little easier for one another.
Winter will pass. The evenings will eventually lengthen, the mornings will brighten and the clocks will change again. Until then, let us try to be the warmth that somebody else might be missing.
Choose kindness. Choose compassion. Choose to be sound.
There is enough cold in the world already.
