Well, I cannot be sure anymore. It has been over a month since I last saw it. This morning, I stood in the balcony with a cup of coffee and tried hard to ferret it out. I looked at this corner of the sky and that, squinted, even burnt one finger, but nope, no sun. The sky was lined with bad-weather clouds; thunder growled ominously in the distance. It is official: the golden glob over our heads is a thing of the past.
In this sun-less world, I barely get by. The laundry needs to be artificially dried, which means our dryer is perpetually on. Just one of the many perks of having a newborn in the house who looks his most content when he is pooping. After a long night of glorious sleep—give me a moment to do a deep-belly laugh here please—all I want to do is feel the sun on my skin. But all I get are raindrops. And dampness. And mosquitoes. And a general brooding sense of malaise.
When I was little, the rain fascinated me so. I would sit by the window and try to catch the raindrops. My raincoat was bright pink, and I looked forward to wearing it to school. If my school bus got stuck in the traffic, I could sing songs with my girlfriends for longer. My clothes were always dry. My Mom’s smile was my sunshine. How everything has changed!
“Don’t you care about the farmers at all? How will the crops grow if it doesn’t rain?”
Yes, I actually got that from someone recently. Someone whose definition of crops, I am pretty sure, is limited to the processed foods aisle in the supermarket. Chips are a crop. They use potatoes, don’t they?
“Too much rain can be as damaging as too little,” I told them.
They frowned. “You selfish people.”
Yes, okay, I am selfish. I cannot handle these sun-less days anymore. They get under my skin like a crawling, gnawing worm. I feel a kind of sadness that makes my outlook on everything appear bleak and meaningless. Back in Vienna, we would often have days like these in the winter, and I would spend my time chasing whatever little sunshine we did get. But in a manner I cannot fully explain, the lack of sunshine this year feels infinitely worse. It feels interminable.
I have had it with the rain. Teleport me to the green, sunlit valleys that I am sure exist in some part of the world. I want to remain there alone and undisturbed and let the sun rejuvenate and repair me enough to face this terrible dreariness again. Or wait, maybe I will just remain. Hobbes is so right. Nothing quite compares to the contentment of a big sunny field to be in.