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