Still Waiting On The Sun
The blue sky’s still there. I know it is. It’s just hidden, that’s all.
What is it they say about the weather suiting the mood? Or is it the mood suiting the weather? Either way, right now, it most definitely suits.
Grey, unusually cold, unusually wet. Not what I’d hoped for when I got on that plane 10 days ago.
The batteries are still low, but at least I’ve shaken my cold off. Back to sleeping half the day. Hot water bottles and fan heaters giving warmth.
Dragged my reluctant body to Cala Cortina this afternoon.
Sat on the rocks. Let the sound of waves on shingle fill my ears. Let the ozone fill my nostrils. Let my thoughts ebb and flow with the water.
Felt comfortably numb for a while.
Numb is better than melancholic. Melancholy has had the upper hand so far this year.
Book critic Michael Dirda once said:
For those of us with an inward turn of mind, which is another name for melancholy introspection, the beginning of a new year inevitably leads to thoughts about both the future and the past.
I most certainly possess an ‘inward turn of mind’, and given the way the year started, I never stood a chance.
Add in all the re-reading and re-writing about the past that I’m doing as a day job right now and unsurprisingly the future isn’t getting a look in.
Claire Tomalin the great literary biographer once said:
Writing induces melancholy. You’re alone, a hermit.
Absolutely true; ask Gail.
There’s no other way though. It comes with the territory.
So the weather is melancholic and my mood is melancholic. I long for a change in both.
In a few weeks, this retrospective writing will be done. It’ll be time for a change. Time to leave the past behind. By then the sunshine should be back. I’ll be able to think about the future.
In the words of Anatole France, the French novelist:
All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another.