Have you ever woken up feeling low and spent the day that way, and not known if it’s because you’re tired, or because you had bad dreams (which lurk there, yet you can’t remember them) or if it’s because you miss your best friend – dead for six weeks – or your mother – dead for six years – or if it’s because you don’t know where life is going? Or is it just because it’s a sunny April day, and whereas the day before you were happy because of that, now you find yourself agreeing with T.S.Eliot…
April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
I’ve just been looking for an April photo to illustrate this post and realised that the light is special in April (as it is in September but in a different way). It’s bright and beautiful and uncompromising, but the distance looks mystical. Look at it here:
There are people all over the world who are suffering. I know that. I feel it. I know that my troubles are trivial. I published this post because I like blogs where people share their feelings; and someone, somewhere, might find it helpful.
“We read to know we are not alone.” C.S.Lewis