Rain has melted the snow, has left icy mud and puddles that finger their way inside of my boots relentlessly. The tips of forgotten aluminum cans are exposed now, rusty icebergs.
The sun came back for an entire day and then left us again among the lonesome shades of gray. I lay in bed a long time that morning, thinking. I didn’t know the sun had come back, and sometimes there is so much to think about that I have to sit somewhere quiet to let the thoughts thump out their chaotic rhythm, for hours, until they finally leave me alone with the present.
When, around noon, I stumbled into clothes and out of the wagon I was startled by the light. A defensive hand flew to my eyes, and I yelped, then pleaded, “Vitamin D, Vitamin D, Vitamin D!” In two months we’ll be sitting outside again. It won’t be warm, but we won’t have to light the wood stove anymore, and people will stubbornly strip down to T-shirts over coffee. In the morning we’ll meet around a small table outside, and one by one the entire platz will awaken and join the circle, hot beverage in hand.