Gray mornings are the best kind of mornings. I believe I may be in the minority here, but gray days make me happier than any other kind of day. Actually, I’m not really sure if happy is the right word. It’s more like ALIVE. I love driving the girls to school with the headlights on and the roads still wet from last night’s rain. I love the way that the overcast skies make the bare trees look simple and stunning and hopeful, as though they’re absolutely content in their nudity, knowing that soon enough they’ll be covered in pink and white blossoms. That will be a whole different kind of beauty. I love the way kids walk to school, with their backpacks on, their hoods up, their heads down and their hands jammed in their pockets, in their own world. Each one of them is the only one walking to school. Alone and reflective. I love the way the world feels slower, more at peace, as though we’re collectively waiting for something magnificent. Collectively alone, each of us inside of ourselves, with our own thoughts and our own dreams and our own worries. I love the peace that comes with the gray. It’s so opposite of the way the sunlight feels. Sun makes me squint and it hurts my eyes. Gray allows my eyes to open wide. Sun makes me hurry. Gray makes me relax. While the sun can make me feel alive in a different way, sometimes it feels as though it’s assaulting all my senses, leaving me no choice, which can leave me feeling violated. Gray does more of a seeping, comforting, sense-awakening, filling. Like a cup of coffee being poured or like the smoke I see rising from the cars in front of me in the line to drop off the kids, full and shapeless and lovely, rising slowly toward the sky. There’s a time and a place for sun, for sure. And sometimes I love it. But today I am loving the gray.
Tomorrow starts a new month. The old month will be gone forever. I think I’m ready for it. But today, on this last day of January, I am basking in the quiet, beautifully sad and hopefully peaceful in-between-ness.
Speaking of which, I think my blissful in between time is already over. I see the sun beginning to make its way through my windows and I hear my nephew waking up over the baby monitor plugged in next to me. His new baby brother comes home from the hospital today and his life starts a new chapter. His in-between-ness is over too.
Here comes the day.