January 17, 2012


{Some days must be dark and dreary}
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The wind is moaning outside my window, the sound wrapping around the buildings like rope. Sometimes it sounds as though a child is lost, other times as though an engine is roughly revving up to start a race. This is not the wind I call my friend, no, my friend the wind is spirited, whips to and fro with energy and joy.

The rain is cold, its dull splashes like the falling of a million tears. It is not the rain I love-the warm rain of summer and early autumn that cleanses and renews.

The day is neither dark nor light, for the sun cannot decide whether he should sleep all day or stay awake. His sleepy face shines a dull, hard light upon the soggy ground. He is not the sun I love.

Perhaps they are the sun and rain and wind that I love. Should not the wind be allowed to have a bad day? Perhaps we must put up with the wind, with the dull sun and the cold rain. My cheerful weather friends will cheer again. The sun will glow warmly on my face in a waterfall of glorious light. The wind will play gently with my hair and tickle my face and the warm rains will nourish the ground once more. Perhaps even my friend snow will come and visit again. She left and I miss her.

I will have to feel a little down, for we all must feel a little melancholy once in a while. How would we know cheer, were it not for gloom? I will snuggle up and rejoice in my memories of snow, remembering that there must be days when there is darkness, and looking forward to the new and glorious sunsets to be had in the future.

And perhaps it is so with friends. For we cannot be all sunshine, all the time. Some of our days must be dreary. Can we expect sunbeams from our dearests all year?