Winter is long for someone whose moods are bent by light and darkness. The looming clouds, thickly knitted over the weakened sun, become a suffocating quilt over the head, hands pawing in vain to pull free from its ensnaring grasp.
When the sunlight returns in spring – that first day where a thick coat is shunned for the comfort of jeans and a hoodie – I finally breathe deeply once more. I inhale the beginnings of new life, the light breeze that tousles my hair, and I smile in relief. I’ve made it another year through the hellish months. Everything feels just a little easier, each step a little less painful.
This is when I invite people by. I am no good in the cold and snow. I hibernate, mentally and physically, recoiling from cool, blue fingers. I can handle people and noise again.
It may last only 31 days, but for me, winter is one big long December, and I am never sorry to see it go.
Day 186: A Long December – Counting Crows