Looking up through dirty windshield, she felt an inner sigh of disappointment.

Cloudy days meant cloudy moods.

She wasn’t sure if it was her mood reflecting the weather or if she sensed other people’s moods related to the weather. It was hard to tell. She spent a lot of time trying to appreciate and even romanticize the cloudy day.

She pictured water accumulating in the sky, droplets grouping in a magical dance to form the haze that from below appeared so tangible.

Impenetrable.

But still all she could feel was the heaviness of a wet blanket, the drivers around her making no attempt to appreciate this mysterious gray.

To the sun, it’s always daytime.

Be the sun.

Remembering the sunny day of yesterday, rays warming her skin with an almost tender touch, she imagined the light had sunk down through flesh and into her very veins–blood turning brilliant gold, shining outward through her body.

What if she had blood of sunshine?

The thought was energizing. Blood of sunshine would mean carrying the light within her to share with those in the dark and the cold. It would dry out this gray, humid day and leave trails of glowing amber in her wake, flowers and trees sprouting up behind her as she walked.

Crowds of people would pause in silence as she glowed past them. Each would question what they had seen, yet remain forever changed by the encounter.

The warmth of sunshine surged through her veins, a loving, energetic force.

Arriving at work, she guided her car into her usual space, but moved with unusual ease.

Heavy doors of the office building were no match for the sunshine, which entered and filled the dreary space. Making eye contact with a gentleman on his way out, he stopped in his tracks.

“Good morning,” he said, with a strangely earnest quality.

“Good morning,” she replied, with radiant sunshine smile.

And it was.

(C) 2021 Barbara Gray – no content may be used or reproduced without permission of the author.