Awaiting the Light
It's just two days before Christmas and I have things to do and buy before tomorrow evening, but my mind and my body don't feel like moving, thinking, or dealing with what needs to be done. It's a dark, pearly gray outside. It seems as if the world has shut me in my house, which has shut me in my mind.
In the morning the darkness does not let me wake up until almost lunchtime. It doesn't matter that I'm out of bed. I am waiting for the daylight to reach me, but it doesn't. In the afternoon I will probably set out as early as possible, but most shops won't open until four or five in the afternoon. And by then night will be falling, and the gray light will simply get darker until night enshrouds all.
I envy those who like days like today. People who seem cozy with the dim light, the eternal moisture, and the early darkness. I may ask for a day like this one once every eleven months. No more. I am more of a sunlight freak. On days like this whenever I notice a lightening of the sky, I look up, hoping to see a blue rag of sky. Of course, it's almost never there.
I prefer to have sunlight wake me up by playing with my eyelids in the morning, casting moving shadows against the wall. I love to see the colors picked out by the bright light, and see how they change throughout the day, until they fade away under a blue-purple sky at dusk. I love the warmth of the sun on me, kissing my skin with its elfin touch.
But I suppose I'll have to wait until this weekend, when the forecast tells us the sun will be back for a brief visit. And the good thing is, that now the days will begin to grow again. The sun will begin gaining power over the darkness, minute by minute. And the light will let me wander outside my house and my mind again, and take in all the colors and shapes and life that surrounds me.
(Written on an unforgivably grey, rainy, misty, short midwinter's day.)
In the morning the darkness does not let me wake up until almost lunchtime. It doesn't matter that I'm out of bed. I am waiting for the daylight to reach me, but it doesn't. In the afternoon I will probably set out as early as possible, but most shops won't open until four or five in the afternoon. And by then night will be falling, and the gray light will simply get darker until night enshrouds all.
I envy those who like days like today. People who seem cozy with the dim light, the eternal moisture, and the early darkness. I may ask for a day like this one once every eleven months. No more. I am more of a sunlight freak. On days like this whenever I notice a lightening of the sky, I look up, hoping to see a blue rag of sky. Of course, it's almost never there.
I prefer to have sunlight wake me up by playing with my eyelids in the morning, casting moving shadows against the wall. I love to see the colors picked out by the bright light, and see how they change throughout the day, until they fade away under a blue-purple sky at dusk. I love the warmth of the sun on me, kissing my skin with its elfin touch.
But I suppose I'll have to wait until this weekend, when the forecast tells us the sun will be back for a brief visit. And the good thing is, that now the days will begin to grow again. The sun will begin gaining power over the darkness, minute by minute. And the light will let me wander outside my house and my mind again, and take in all the colors and shapes and life that surrounds me.
(Written on an unforgivably grey, rainy, misty, short midwinter's day.)
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