Letting the Sunshine In (Literally)
Project 365, Day 140/365
You know that apartment I wrote about yesterday? I had another memory I wanted to share about it. It’s a quick little thing, but it’s a moment in time that changed my daily behavior, and I have my mom to thank for it. Today, on lillördag, I want to bring attention to the beauty that little shifts can bring us.
After a particularly traumatic palmetto bug episode (if you don’t know what I’m referencing, I sort of mentioned it yesterday…and also, only Floridians dare to “dress up” something as disgusting as a cockroach by calling it a palmetto bug, don’t @ me that they are different things), my sweet, sweet mom came to stay with me for a week or so after I couldn’t go home one day after work out of fear, and circled the mall until it closed, on the phone with her in tears about possibly encountering something disgusting when I dared to cross my threshold. Sorry…this was supposed to be a nice story. I’m getting to it.
Two days later, she arrived, like a savior on a fluffy cloud of hope. Moms can be the best, hm?
At the time, I didn’t need to be at work until 10, so I tended to sleep in a little longer. My mom, as mom’s do, would wake up earlier than me, go make coffee, ask me what I wanted for breakfast, welcome the morning. I remember that first morning, walking out into the living room, and proclaiming with surprise “Wow! It’s so bright in here!” to which she responded matter of factly, “Yes, I opened your windows.”
Prior to my mom coming, I think it’s safe to say that I opened my blinds only on the weekends, not bothering on weekdays. I figured it wasn’t worth it. There was no sense to me in opening them to just come home in the dark and close them again. Who was enjoying the sunshine all that time? No one. That’s who. I’d sit on my sofa, drinking coffee, eating eggs, watching a quick little bit of TV in darkness.
But that one morning, I recall feeling so happy, an instant jolt of joy as I glided around my apartment, bathed in sunlight. I had never thought, not even for a moment, to enjoy a showering of morning rays before heading off to the drudgery of work. It took nothing more than 30 seconds to open (and close) the blinds, but I was as dark to the concept as my living room was.
The week or so that my mom was staying with me, mornings hit differently. They were light. Happy. They felt like a little sliver of life I got to have before nine, 10 hours at the office. What I had prior was heavy, tired, a means to an end. I couldn’t believe how such a small act could make such a big impact on my day.
Once my mom’s visit was over and she returned home, I kept up the ritual of waking, heading to the living room, throwing open the floor-to-ceiling vertical blinds, greeting the sweet yellow morning and soft blue Florida sky, before obligations set in. The practice was cathartic, a small dose of happiness I could give myself each day.
Now, all these years later, I still think of that moment in time, with my mom, up on the sixth floor in my apartment, awash in the morning sun. Sometimes, it’s just those little wonders that punctuate your day and your life with warmth. Thanks mom for figuratively and literally letting in the light for me.
See you tomorrow, FOAS.