Remembering Sunshine

It was sunny the other day. Bright, yellow, beautiful sunshine, as if the world was dripping in honey and it was spilling onto the pavement, and across the shops, and down the sides of empty restaurants. 

I felt the warmth on my face, my head. A foreign feeling, at first. It caught me by surprise and I had to pause for a minute, thinking to myself: Oh yes, this is what the sun feels like. I almost forgot.

I guess it’s only when you feel the sun again that you realize just how dark it’s been, how glum. And when you think about that, it’s a rather sad realization. Did I really forget about light and warmth and radiance? 

Up in the sky, the sun is still dancing – something lively and upbeat like the cha-cha or mambo. You suddenly remember the meaning of the word vibrant. It’s obvious, suddenly, that cities have heartbeats. And that you do too. Because you feel it pulsating inside of you…a gentle thump, a quiet murmur. 

A reminder that you’re not only alive, but that you’re living. That’s what someone told me the other day. ‘You’re living,’ she said. Yes, I suppose I am. 

I felt an undeniable glow inside me then, as if all the bright and wonderful things about the world found their way into my heart. A foreign feeling, at first. It caught me by surprise and I had to pause for a minute, thinking to myself: Oh yes, this is what happiness feels like. I almost forgot.