Yes. I’m pretty sure I just quoted a country song from the 90’s. This is a first and most likely a last.
This morning was a bit lazy, but earlier than they have been. It was still cool and dark in my bedroom, I was cozy and warm with a book and it took a bit to rub the sleep out of my eyes. It could have also been the makeup I forgot to remove before bed last night, but I digress. It was a perfectly lovely morning. The ones where you take big, long, gasping stretches to wake your body up. The ones where you’re content to sit with a cup of coffee, no music, no tv, just you and the cup held between your warming palms.
It was peaceful and striking. I couldn’t shake that there were words here, a beauty I wanted to capture without my always present phone camera. I couldn’t shake it. It almost made me sad that the sun would soon start to filter into my apartment and the noise of children arriving rather loudly at the schools would soon make the air busy. Breaking the calm, patient silence of my morning. It was in that moment that I realized, I knew this moment. I’d had moments like this before. In Vancouver.
In Vancouver, everyone is always complaining about the weather. I think it’s a ‘thing’ in the Pacific Northwest in general because we live with dreary, drizzly rain and sombre gray skies for oh, 8 months out of the year. It’s a constant, a common thread and something that is just persistent in our lives. It changes how we dress, where we go, how we walk, what we carry and where we park. I found winters in Vancouver to be rough at first and then somewhat resigned myself. It was worth it for the amazingly gorgeous summers, the sprawling ocean and the majestic mountains that meet the shore.
The rain was something we just had to get through. When local weather people would say how the rain made our skin beautiful and kept us young, I rolled my eyes in an irritated, annoyed fashion. Yeah. Sure. And schlopping around in galoshes was good for my thighs? We just had to get used to being damp, musty and muddle through until the spring when we would all forget what we just endured, exclaiming, “It’s this the most beautiful place on earth?”
I never appreciated it. Until this morning.
There is peace in the grayness. There is a slowness, a stillness that comes when there is no sun to wake you up. There’s an acceptance of a lingering way of life, a lengthened moment over coffee, a lack of pressure to get up and out. When the sun isn’t beating in your windows, it’s almost like nature giving you permission to cozy up on the couch with a blanket and a book. It’s nature giving you instruction to throw on a pot of soup and stop worrying for the day. Whatever it is?
It can wait.
I felt such a deep longing for Vancouver this morning. Such an appreciation for the rain and the comforting cocoon it created for me. I have missed so much about Vancouver while learning to appreciate so much about New York. Restaurants. Views. People. Things. It just never felt like it did this morning. A feeling like I couldn’t wait to feel the rain again. To hunker down when nature told me to. A deep, deep appreciation for the clouds and dreary skies.
For now, I have sun though and I can appreciate that too.