It’s a perfectly sunny morning. Nothing like a perfectly sunny morning after a week of rain. Damp, cold, miserable, car-drenching-you-while-you’re-walking-the-dog rain. Today is fat and happy with possibility. Thoughts of window boxes, and patio furniture and whether I can show my arms this season, or not.
And then I remember about Syria. And that bat shit crazy Assad person who is satan’s younger more handsome brother and I think, you can’t be happy today because there is this.
And I sit and wonder. I wonder if I shouldn’t allow the sun up in the sky to let me be grateful today that I am not living in Syria under a dictator who is so evil he can kill a perfect little baby. I wonder if I should cover my face and allow the Hitler-esque horror to fill me and render me useless today.
I choose instead to be in this present moment, in my present reality, and allow the sunlight in, while cradling those people in my heart. I will carry the man who lost his twins and wife, with me today as I walk in the sunlight. I will try and telecommunicate my oneness with him, let him know he is with me, as another human who can feel the tip of a pinkie of his pain, who honors the hell he is currently living in.
I will do that, and this. I will make room for both. Probably not without periodic guilt, but I will try to honor them by living today, inside the space of the sun.
I don’t love rain, or snow, or really anything but sun, but today the rain feels like an engraved invite to flowers everywhere to come on up and strike a pose. And well, is there anything better than flowers doing their thing? It’s like a natural art. It’s like you’re in a living breathing museum while you’re just walking down the street (no parking fee, no admission tickets, no crowds). Awe, look at the hordes of tiny crocus, announcing to the flower kingdom that the time has come. And by the way, how about the badassery of the crocus–those guys were totally accosted by the snow last week, all “C’mon, you’re kidding me, already,” but they stood strong and made it through the storm.
When you slow down enough to think about nature and its instinctive ability, it practically could knock you off your office chair. Today I’m grateful for the water dripping from the sky. Despite the fact that I will have bad hair all day, it will help our common gardens grow and that will make the world, as cuckoo clock crazy as it is right now, at least look better.
Sweet Jesus, the sun can change a person’s mind. I mean, just when I was about to send dead crocuses to every weather man out there, boom, temperatures rise, the sun shows up and my deadened soul is all like, Marvin Gaye’s Let’s Get it On.
With every winter I (slimly) make it through, I wonder when it will be that I will give up on New England and just be done with it. I wonder when I will abandon the four seasons that are really just two (winter and summer), throw caution to the nor’easter wind and move South.
Then I remember the political climate, and I understand that there is more than just weather to consider.
I live in a bubble. It’s probably not the time to pack it in, just now. I will store my four down coats, and keep rooting for the sun to get out of hiding. Yep, for now New England’s mentality will have to keep me warm.