Short on Sunshine

Lately I haven't had too much to blog about. It's the sun's fault, really. I'm addicted to it, and to light in general, and haven't been getting enough of it. That makes me forget the things I love. Even though it's been sunny the past couple of days, the winter-ness is getting to me more all the time. Yesterday I cried twice. Twice. Once it was because I miss the sun and warm, and once it was for Emily and Kristina and I, all of us missing our dads, and all of us for very different reasons.

One of the worst things about winter is that it dulls my senses so much. Doing sensory things makes me feel better. I want to go running at Holmes Lake with the wind blowing on me and the sun shining on my face. I want to go to the mill with someone, order hot tea in a real mug, and sit in a corner and chat, or just sit in comfortable silence, gripping the ceramic with both hands and enjoying the warmth and company. I want to go on girls' dates and giggle. I want to feel music that surrounds me and fills my whole self, so that there's no room for the emptiness anymore. I want to kiss a boy. I want to throw open the blinds to the sunshine (well, I just did that, actually). I want to play and cuddle with a dog. I want flowers--happy ones, like daisies, and the brighter colored, the better. I want to write on the hand-made paper in my brown leather journal with a fancy, flowy-inked pen. I want to touch and taste and feel and see things that are real and make me feel alive--because mostly, these days, I feel like the trees outside. I'm still alive, but all the life in me has been sucked down deep inside, and just my shell is left.

It's hard to remember joy that is lasting. I still experience joy, but it is fleeting. I would usually characterize myself as someone with joy--my life, like my blog, is lived in the sunshine. It's hard to remember that joy will come again. Hang in there with me. My blog and I will know sunshine again.