Overcast

The overcast day always distracts me. The green outside looks a little more intense. The redness of the hibiscus deepens. There is a pensive quality to the air and to the day itself. I can sit for hours comfortable with the thoughts playing around in my head. It’s what I do best. I don’t need music to enjoy my mood – I am happy with the sound of the leaves rustling in the wind. The entire day weighs heavy with expectancy but not unpleasantly so. You don’t get days like this very often for the conditions have to be just right.

I sit next to my window and watch the sky that perfectly mirrors my soul. My soul is usually overcast or at least my mind is. The beauty beneath gets obscured by the sorrowing clouds. I have long ceased to see the blue and see only the grey. It is not a dreary unhappiness - just a subtly melancholic one. It may seem like a contradiction but it isn’t. No one can be perfectly happy. It is easier to be imperfectly happy. I take joy in some things but overshadowing it all is worry for my son’s future. It doesn’t go away and what frightens me more is my incapability. I cannot seem to help him – sometimes it appears I do not even want to try. A little centre of pain such as that can keep you from smiling your fullest smile. It’s been too long since my slender shoulders have been burdened and I cannot but wonder how his little shoulders will hold up. On days like this a certain sense of peace comes over me. A stillness where there is no expectation or thought or worry – just the satisfaction of being. The background noise of cars and people talking too loudly on their cell phones cannot detract from the essential beauty of the moment and I am calm and placid like a lake with only internal ripples.