“I miss you deeply, unfathomably, senselessly, terribly.” ~Franz Kafka
Today is Monday, clouds cover the sky, and there isn’t a sign of the sun. It’s cold, it’s wet, and it’s gloomy. It feels like something familiar is missing, though I can’t quite name it. The soft pitter-patter of the rain feels different; the quiet lingers a little longer today, almost as if something is meant to interrupt it. Rainy days used to feel so peaceful; I even liked them. Now something feels different. The rain only draws attention to the absence, and the cold seems to bite a little harder than normal.
I wonder if never seeing the moon bothers the sun as much as not being able to see the deep hazel pool of the sky bothers me. As the day goes on, it just gets colder, and it stays rather than fades. The morning is the easiest to deal with because I have hope that the clouds will clear and the beautiful hazel sky will shine through. Even in the chilling rain, I can still hear the chirps of the morning birds that remind me of the sunny days that brought me joy, which feel like forever ago. The wind smells cold and empty, as if something was supposed to fill the emptiness of the air. Even the wet concrete doesn’t smell as good as it used to.
The afternoon is when it gets harder. The warmth that the air once held is nowhere to be found today. My hands feel so cold and coarse, reaching out for the fleeting warmth that escapes with the sun.
I’m not quite sure why, but seeing the river just made the day worse. Watching it flow made it seem as if it knew which way it was meant to go; nothing out of place.
Should I be feeling like this?
It’s just the weather after all, anyone else would have grabbed an umbrella and carried on, but doesn’t anyone miss the sky? Miss the sun? Why is it that I’m having the most miserable day, missing something that isn’t going to come back for a while, but the world keeps turning, and everyone expects me to keep turning with it? Everyone seems happy around me, and I can’t even get my cheeks to lift, let alone form a smile. Carrying through the motions of the day, missing what isn’t going to be there today doesn’t seem right. It’s just weather after all, it’ll change eventually.
Work seemed to be different as well. I typically dread going in because my boss is a jerk, but today I had way less motivation to go in. I had a shorter fuse today. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. Today felt off as isolation creeped into my bones. People tried to talk to me, but the conversations seemed so empty and half-hearted, and I had no desire to talk. One thought echoed through the chambers of my mind. “Why did the weather feel so different today?”
Night has by far been the worst. The rain hasn’t stopped, it only grew heavier as the clouds stretched thicker. The sun didn’t have the ability to show itself today, and it hid far away, tucked behind the clouds. With the clouds still in the sky, you can’t see “the moon,” which has always been the best part of the night. Lying down in bed feels even colder than it did outside. Something else is supposed to be here, but I don’t know what, and it’s killing me. When my eyes close, all I can think of is what I associate with a presence. Warmth, the early summer air, the sky, and that familiar, beautiful hazel color. These weren’t just things. They felt connected, tied to something bigger.
My hands weren’t missing the warm air. They were missing the warmth that weather couldn’t give alone. The warmth I needed only existed in a few familiar moments that I yearn for every minute of the day. My hands were missing the warmth of her hands, her fingers intertwined with mine, palm-to-palm, even while our hands were sweaty. I wasn’t missing the sky for the view, I was missing the color that reminded me of those soul-capturing eyes… hazel. Those eyes that grabbed me and held me captive from the minute we first spoke; those very eyes were the only ones that captured and held the moon hostage in those deep, beautiful pools. The smell of wet concrete isn’t what my nose was searching for; my nose was searching for that scent of perfume that is missing today, and realizing that brings me nothing but woe and sadness. I knew the morning chirps of the birds were such a small and little thing to miss until I realized… I didn’t miss the sound of the birds; I missed the sound of her voice in the morning.
It took all this time for me to realize that it wasn’t the weather I missed; it was a person, but not just anyone. This girl was the sun that always pushed through the clouds, and her familiar shine isn’t here today. It wasn’t seeing the moon that I missed, but rather the feeling of wanting to tell her a hundred different ways how much I love her. Knowing that the early summer weather is so cold it feels like winter, I’m worried what winter will feel like if she isn’t with me.