#135: The light returns
I woke up at 7am and walked up a hill.
It was dark but I could see.
Cold to see wisps of my breath.
There was silence except for the sounds that you never hear.
The occasional bird, distant humming, the sound of my footsteps.
I trudged up a hill, boots, squelching.
Thinking still; “what am I doing"
The world looked misty with no mist.
I turned to the East with no sign of the Sun, still dark.
Bored. Sat at the base of a tree.
Fidgeting, agitated - where is the Sun?
Expected at 8.20am.
Currently 7.56am.
Stop.
A deep breath from nowhere.
Raindrops crying from the branches above.
Tears suddenly form in my eyes.
Stop.
The occasional bird passes, croaking.
I can hear my breath.
I can feel my chest rising.
For the first time in months.
I am there with myself, together.
Slowly, creeping, the light returns.
The grass from darkness to dark green.
The sky from black to grey.
No dazzling sunrise.
No burning orange orb to fill the sky.
Not startled or blown away.
The sunrise was mediocre, ok, enough.
Enough.
The light returned, nothing else changed.
I didn’t feel much different.
Yet the light had returned.
And the light has returned in me.
