The Beauty of an Ugly Day
Tuesday came, and it was barren.
Low clouds, whipping wind, hard and icy earth.
I came in from the outside. My lips and fingertips were numbed.
Wednesday would be brighter and warmer. I could spend today waiting for tomorrow. But in New England, you could spend all winter waiting for tomorrow.
I turned on the light. On a gray morning, I like how light doesn't so much illuminate a room as butter it.
I put on water for tea. On a cold morning, folding your cold fingers around a hot mug is a wonderful reassurance: warmth will return to us.
I stared out the window. I'd thought it was uninspired to talk about the weather. But someone told me it's something we all share. And I looked at houses filled with people who were all in this gray, cold morning with me.
If I could have ordered up a climate for Tuesday, it wouldn't have been this. And yet here, in the very thing I didn't ask for was the very thing I needed: A reminder to not take light, warmth, our common experience for granted.
Sunlight could blind me to all that. But a lack of light illuminates it. And so I get to see the beauty of a day I had dismissed as ugly.