We can all bring some sunshine to dreary moods

This winter weather is getting to me.

The endless gray sky, the dirty gray pavement of roads lined with muddy cars, and the leaden mood of everyone I talk to is oppressive.

I’m just as guilty.

Each morning when my alarm goes off – or when I am jolted awake because I can’t remember hearing the alarm go off – I open one eye, turn toward the window, and close it again quickly.

Why bother? I don’t have to look. It’s just another rainy day. I don’t want to get out of bed and I’m not alone.

The cats and dogs sprawl on my feet and no amount of prodding will make them leave.

My younger children stagger out of bed and into my room and then join the comatose pets.

I make a show of lifting my head, telling everyone to get out and start getting ready or we’ll be late, but then drop back into my pillow and snuggle up to the closest warm body.

No one moves.

We don’t want to go to work or school or – in the case of the animals – to the back yard. We just want to go back to sleep. We want to hibernate until the sun comes out.

Unfortunately, we can’t. We’re not bears or even pampered cats and dogs. We have to come out of the cave every day and join the other sleepy people who are on the roads driving to work and school, standing in line for coffee (triple shots), and moving like zombies down sidewalks and school corridors.

We have to wait for the sun to come out. The thing is we know that it will eventually, and we’ll be able to turn our faces up to the warmth.

But what do you do when it’s winter inside you; when every day – no matter what the calendar says – your emotional climate is as dark and chilly as the harshest January day?

That’s not so easy to wait out.

In the last few months I’ve spent hours on the phone with someone I care about very much. She lives in a warm climate but she’s been in a cold place. She’s been stuck in winter and it’s taken her a while to dig her way out. She’s trying hard, and she’s doing all the right things – medication, counseling and keeping herself busy – and she’s making good progress. She’s not completely out of the shadows yet, but she’s on her way.

I feel fortunate. Sure, I’m tired of the dreary weather. I’m desperately ready for a change, but I know that in just a few months my discontented winter will melt into spring.

Soon the light will shine in my windows again and I won’t be so inclined to pull the comforter back over my head.

I’ll open my eyes to bright sunny mornings, to playful cats and dogs that are anxious to get outside; to children who won’t be so quick to stop by for a cuddle before they head out the door.

Seasons change. The green grass and blue skies always return.

This winter will pass and my world will be beautiful again.

Those long conversations, reaching out across the miles for comfort and conversation with someone who matters so much to me, have brought their own solace.

She’ll see the sun again, too.