DST

{a letter to daylight savings time}

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dear Daylight Saving,

You know as well as I do that our afternoons and evenings together this week have been glorious. I don't have to tell you that. It's in the songs I'm humming under my breath, the moments I stop and bask in your light, the windows rolled down in my car as our voices blend together in a sweet harmony.

While we're together, time seems to be a concept that ceases to exist. Our afternoons stretch into evenings with bursts of color. But before I know it, our time together is over with one final, glorious burst of color. I delay, I convince myself just a few more minutes with you won't mean that much the next day. Soon enough those streaks of color have faded, and darkness seeps in. But it is a light kind of darkness, if that makes sense to you, a darkness that is never too far from light, the kind that tricks you into thinking that it won't get any darker. And I begin to worry that you're leaving me, tricking me, fooling me.

And then, by morning, your cruel side reveals itself. It's all I can do not to turn over, bury my face in my pillow, and pretend like I have nothing to do with you. You show up, dark, often dreary, and the light you bring is grey and cold. When I can bring myself to face you, I try not to think too much about the joy, the freedom, the warmth I felt not that long ago. Because you have this side to you as well, and I must remember the good with the bad.

Not even the hope of a wonderful afternoon and evening together could pull me out of bed this morning. Your cold shoulder was an unwelcome bedfellow. Your darkness, your cold, your biting wind - they all felt like you were lashing out, unhappy yourself at being this way.

But I've learned to protect myself. I wrapped myself in my most colorful scarf against your grey. I pinned my hair against your bluster and took the day on with force and purpose. I wore sunglasses against your darkness. I wore flats and no socks against your cold. And I made it through.

You didn't come around this afternoon as usual, your colorful and warm self. You kept yourself hidden, shrouded in grey and cold and wind. I have a feeling I'll feel more of your cold shoulder again tomorrow. You may even stay away for a few whole days. I understand. I know what it's like. To feel cold, to feel grey, to lash out at anyone who wants you to be something you're not.

But I know how to protect myself against the darker side of you now. I know how to embrace your warmth and your color and your light until you turn grey and cold. I hold onto those until I know you will come around again.

Until my face is warmed by your light in both morning and night, I'll be waiting . . .

Yours,

Ashley