The Light Still Shines

Nikki Douglas

I knew it would happen. Or maybe it was my expectation that made it happen. Honestly, it happens every year. As the days grew shorter, sunlight fading before dinnertime, my anxiousness grew. Eight months into the pandemic and I still hadn’t experienced the panic or depression I had read about in friends’ facebook posts or random articles circulating through social media. No doubt, my way of life had drastically changed just like everyone else, but I didn’t feel a heaviness. As long as I could get outside and my kids were able to enjoy playing in the front yard with the neighbors, we were okay. And then the daylight savings ended. 

Sunlight has always been a source of comfort for me. As a kid, in the summer my mom would take us to the pool for hours, often the entire day. Now, having kids of my own, I realize that the long days at the pool is probably what kept my mom’s sanity with three girls at home for summer break. But for me, it was the light - the warmth, the water, the smell of sunscreen - and the days that seemed to go on and on until it was well past our bedtime and fireflies began to light up our backyard. More sunlight means more time to live. More sunlight means more opportunity to play. More sunlight lifts my spirit to a place that only light can. When the sun is shining, so is my mood. 

When we purchased the house we live in now, the abundance of windows greatly appealed to me. I like natural light and I like to let as much of it into our house as possible. As evening approaches, Clay & I have an ongoing debate about when to pull the curtains closed. If left to my preference, the curtains remain open until the last bit of sunlight is no longer visible. Clay prefers to close the curtains and turn on all the lamps at dusk. Covering up the windows makes me feel confined, especially when the clock on the wall reads 5:00pm. 

Just as the days gradually grew shorter, my contentedness began to wane. When I saw darkness outside my kitchen window while I made dinner, I would long for the days just months before when 5:30pm meant we were on our way home from the community pool with at least two more hours of daylight ahead. This comparison of seasons plagues my thoughts every year. And every year I succumb to the darkness and let it drag my spirit down. But this year the darkness felt bigger. In a time of pandemic when outside gatherings and activities are deemed safer, the dark and the cold threatened those options. What I failed to acknowledge is that, just as we got creative with how we did life in the summer, we had the choice to be creative in the darkness of winter. So I decided instead of letting my spirit darken, I’m learning to embrace the winter and what it brings. Afterall, the sun still shines each day, giving light to new opportunities and possibilities.

Photo by Jaime Dantas on Unsplash