It is a beautiful sun filled day in Corner Brook, and I am currently letting the light stream in through my window. There is something about the way the sunlight penetrates my hair, making it soft and warm, that allows a gentle smile emerge from within me. Simultaneously, I always close my eyes.
I remember growing up, when my mom or dad would take my sister and I for a drive in the summer, going to Garden Cove to visit my Grandma and Grandfather Hollett. A soothing heat would amplify through the back seat window. I would drape to one side, resting against my belt, and fall asleep.
Awakening, rural Newfoundland trees in blur and a blue sky with little happy clouds would be in constant view. Through a window, it seems, has always been my favorite form of television.
No oils could ever make my hair feel so touchable as the sun did on those days. Nor did I ever realize then how important the memory would mean to me later.
It has been a long, cold winter. This sun has been desperately needed, and it is beautiful.
As I pick up baby carrots to crunch, I feel fresh again, as if awakening from a long slumber in which I spent more time growing, somberly.
Today I rest and bask my hair within the sun again, like I did on the days of long drives and long naps.
I feel a flutter of life near my heart,
like a butterfly wriggling in it's cocoon.
artist, writer, student, seeker
No comments:
Post a Comment