The view from my windows feeds me, fills my life with a presence much greater than any human might.
I devour a swath of blue sky and feel it enter my bloodstream, nourishing my cells. I swallow great gulps of cottony clouds drifting along the Strait and sense their softness settling gently into my stomach.
These dark, short winter days often reveal a surprise gift—a sunrise that throws light up between breaks in the clouds, plus enough swatches of clear sky to color the bay an iridescent aquamarine. I gather the pieces of blue sky around my shoulders like a shawl of remembered summer days. I bask in the momentary light and absorb it into my heart, where it must be pumped throughout my body as if from a power plant.
I depend on these fleeting glimpses of sunlight to tease me along through winter, to glimmer like a promise—a bargain I must make with the sun each January. I will battle my winter demons, who fight so intensely to strangle my hope, if the sun will show itself whenever I need a boost, a taste of my prize.
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