I have a desperate desire for the sun. I do not care if my feet are in boots or sandals, my shoulders bare or covered in layers. I need a reason for sunglasses across the bridge of my nose — because it creates an easy smile across my face.
I’ve noticed I can stave off a cold or a stomach bug until the weather turns. I find I am nomadic with the sun but restless with the clouds. I find that the overcast days are actually harder than days that bring about blizzards and storms. The rumble of the thunder resonates with my heart. The mist from an overcast day only brings me down.
They say seasonal affective disorder was once an evolutionary advantage — those who remained listless when the weather was bad were more likely to survive. I say I need windows open, natural light pouring in. I need to feel my cheeks flush with high noon rays. I need to put on sunscreen and feel my freckles rise up like daisies after the winter. And, if I’m not going to see the sun, then give me excitement. Give me lightning if I can’t get sunlight. If life is about learning to dance in the rain as opposed to waiting for the storm to pass, soak me to the bone when I go outside. Then bring out the sun to dry me off.