During a cold and grey December’s day in London, the sighting of sunshine and blue skies would be like sighting a leprechaun handing you a pot of gold with your name on it. It can happen- but then you’d probably be diagnosed for something ‘abnormal.’
This has more or less been the color of my palate since I’ve returned to London in September: Grey. Albeit the London grim, cold, rain and snow sprinkled with a bit of unemployment, hardship and uncertainty, I steadily remained a small beam of sunshine wrapped in a bed grey clouds. It’s winters like these that make me miss the countries where sunshine seems endless. I still wear colorful tops, bags, and socks as if I were on the beach in Thailand. Now, I just have to cover them with hefty, not so colorful sweaters and coats.
Last week, Santa gifted me with an early Christmas gift: the job I’ve been fighting for. It’s been months of rejection and reacclimation turbulence, which explains why I’ve disappeared briefly- but our lives evolve just like seasons do, right? After a harsh winter the flowers bloom and the sun shines. So although it’s still negative two degrees outside and technically winter doesn’t end until March, my harsh winter has already blown.. and I’ve re claimed the London sunshine.