I’ve been thinking.
Did you know that I love the smell of sunshine? Or when I think of that sunshine it’s always as light dappling it’s way through beautiful green leaves? Or that my memories of summer are all childhood ones, no adult memories are warm enough?
Once I pushed fast forward on the video recorder even though we were watching tv at the time. Because my dad told me to during a commercial break, and I remember it so well, so palpably – the light was orange, we were watching Sinbad, it was a Sunday afternoon in summer – because he laughed and there wasn’t much that made him laugh. I was proud. And anxious, even then. Before my world came crashing down around my ears and never really built itself up again, I remember the warmth and the sunlight.
If I think of my playschool, it’s sunny and warm. My first year at school the same. Friends and playtime and laughing and fun and no troubles and warmth. Strong sunlight and warm rays. I can feel it on my skin just writing about it here. I can remember it all. And it wasn’t rosy, just yellow.
Some parts of me stay in those endless summer days. And I wish I could take those parts and use them to lighten up my all too grey days, to throw some warmth at me when I’m cold and laugh with my own little bit of sunshine. That’s the dream huh? To be here and there at the same time. All of the benefits and none of the struggles. That would be a warm day indeed.