One of the hardest things for me to handle in the winter months is to get up in the morning. It is all quiet. From the dark sky, the moon is looking down on my tired face. No birds singing, no smell of freshly brewed coffee and croissants, no lively conversations from the neighbours who usually have breakfast on the terrace or in the garden during the summer months.
I would not be able to come to senses until the melody is playing for the third or fourth time. The alarm is always set thirty minutes ahead of my “must-get-up-time”, which gives me enough room for struggling. I did fail a couple of times as my mind refused to give in. It preferred to remain in the dreamy state.
( view from one of the bedrooms)
One of the things that I enjoy most is waking up until my biological clock calls at weekends, and it usually means around 9.30 – 10.00 in the morning. It is especially enjoyable when the sun is shining brightly outside the window. I feel I am blessed when the sun falls lightly on my face.
(The sun is out eventually, view from one of the bedrooms)
I took the picture (below) after sending my youngest to the kindergarten on Friday morning. The car was parked on the side road. My winter coat, hat and gloves were left home. It was minus 9 degrees, the sun eventually came out after days of grey skies. It led to such an intense feeling of happiness. When I walked towards the woods nearby in my loose thin sweater, a woman walking her dog glanced at me, or my inappropriate outfits. I did not care that much.
The sun does have a powerful effect on my mood and spirit, given the winter here is so long and cold. I bet you will definitely find me in a warmer place when I am retired, or even earlier than that. A spontaneous act. I might just disappear. I might just run away without leaving a note. I might be hiding myself in a corner of a remote sandy beach, reading a book or just watching the waves and missing someone or something. Someone or something that I have lost, yet I have not.
On that sandy beach, they all come back to occupy my mind, and my heart, and remind me of those moments, so far away, yet so close. It is so intense, these thoughts are flowing from my mind to my heart, in a circle, until neither my mind nor my heart could bear more. And then they settle down and become fragments.
These latent fragments may be activated at any time, when they are being triggered by some familiar images, a particular scene or place, or a song that used to be played on repeat. And then I realise that those people and those things, they are always there. They have become a part of me, a part of my life.
(Memory – photo taken in Crete, July 2017)