In the month of November, I spend a lot of time on the couch with my eyes closed, soaking in the late afternoon sunlight. If you were to stumble upon me at such a moment, you would think I was doing nothing. But in truth, I am very very busy.
I am memorizing the colorful patterns the sunshine paints on the inside of my eyelids.
I am storing the sun’s warm glow in my bones.
I am committing to memory the feeling of the sun’s tingling heat as it plays across my skin.
Every year, I think that these preparations will be enough. That I will be able to call upon my store of internalized sunshine whenever the bleakness of the world begins to get to me. I swear that this time, I will get through the winter with my smile and my spirit intact.
But then January hits, bringing snow and ice and endless winter days. I get sick. I get cold. My feet feel constantly damp, my bones constantly chilled. No sweater is thick enough, no fire hot enough. My body feels starved for sunshine.
My step slows as I slog through the gray snowbanks.
My posture bows under the weight of the leaden sky.
My energy level dips as the frozen ground sucks the fire from me.
It is a blizzard of the soul, and I am trapped.
Then one day I gaze upwards and see a glimmer of light in the sky.
I glance down and see a patch of earth winking at me through the snow.
I bend down for a closer look and see this:
That tiny spark of green reaches out of the dirt and deep into my heart, bringing me to life again. My smile dazzles, my step bounces and my blood rejoices, for spring will surely come again.
This post was inspired by this week’s writing prompt by The Red Dress Club, which asked us to pretend we were trapped in a blizzard. I’m pretty sure this isn’t what they meant, but oh well. It’s all my muse had to give.