Finding the Light

by Brittany Yesudasan

photo by ron lach on pexels

The dreary winter can be cozy and restful.

 And then it subtly turns oppressive and dreary.

Snow fall is pure magic. A blanket of thick powder can feel comforting and protective. Bright sunlight glistening off an expansive lawn, devoid of footprints, is a gift. Even the gloomy days are lit up from below.

But as the snow thaws, it leaves behind dark and dirty slush. The gloom creeps in, highlighted by the cloud cover that is exceptionally less vibrant than the sparkly snow.

It is such a morning that I find myself waking, not to the sun, but the yellowy glow of my overhead lights. The sun, while awakening later these days, hides behind the covers of the clouds for just a bit longer.

Where is the sun? Asks my son.

It’s there, I reply. But it’s hiding.

It’s there, I repeat to myself.

In the gloom of winter, I find myself searching for the light. The promise of all the good things in store. Hope can be grasped if only by the fingertips. But it does flicker in the distance. A light at the end of a tunnel.

I squint ahead, not just because my prescription is old and my eyes are bad, but because the hope feels so far off.

It’s there.

But sometimes that requires a lot of faith to believe. 

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