I’m Rooting For The Sun
There are piles of snow here that are as tall as I am. I have to wear my orange snow boots every day because they provide the best traction on paths of ice to and from work. I also do this because I’m still in danger of plunging my leg into snowbanks that reach my knee. I love my snow boots, but having to wear the same pair of shoes every day gets a little tiresome. I cheer when I step outside and see the sun has melted the grey a little further and made the paths a little more accessible. If anything else, it makes me hope I can wear a different pair of shoes.
At work, I have a horrible attraction to a guy named Tom. The elements of attraction are the same in my husband: same height, same hat, same lure to a different way of life. This guy wears his hair in a blond ponytail and wants desperately to move out of his parents’ house and to Portland, Oregon. Why has he chosen this city, though he knows no one there? He’s told the night life is awesome, the bars are plentiful, and the city is alive. I’m happy this is just a physical attraction I can ignore, but I recognize the crush-like feelings that came often when I was a teenager. He’s a Jew, and he finds this place oppressive for the same reasons I do, even though I belong to the majority’s religion. My husband thinks this attraction is funny; as long as I don’t act on those impulsive feelings, I feel faithful to my relationship commitment.
But the gloom that comes from constant white and grey doesn’t help, and the shorter days and closer dark doesn’t help either. I also cheer when I see blue sky and sunset. The color means there is also light, and as much as I can be a night owl, the light keeps me bright.