Capturing Sunlight

When I was younger I used to chase the sun. I would strive to be like the light, and I'd pine after the warmth when night would come in. I never once took advantage of the sun, always taking care to be in appreciation. My room used to always be freezing, no matter the season; but sometimes when my curtains on the huge slider window were open, the sun would stream in and I would lie on my carpeting and just relish in the fact that the sun seemed to pierce through my windows and warm up the entire room. Later on in the day, the sun would begin its inevitable retreat and my room would once again grow cold. So I'd keep my mind occupied with other things until sleeping; and the next day I would rip open my curtains again and welcome the sun with open hands and a big heart. My love is derived from the sun, because it too is the truest, and most reliable thing I've yet to find.

I woke up the other day and was delighted at how warm it was in my room; the sun was streaming in and my door was shut. I had become a hunter of sorts, and the sun was my game. My door - a net for the warmth. How quickly had I grown from sun-loving child, to getting in the habit of capturing sunlight. I had learned the ways and tricks of this trade, so in the morning when the sun would bring warmth, I would close my door, and pull my curtains aside until just after noon, and then I would shut my curtains. Then I would keep my door shut still, because I had captured this sunlight, and would be damned to let it go just like that.

I pulled my sheets up and just stared out my window like I used to, and down at the lake too. I felt guilty for being so selfish with the sun; taking advantage of it, really. No longer did I find the joys in warm mornings and summer sweats. Now the sun was a tool for me to forge and fix my days with. It became so unimportant compared to things like phone calls and college applications and grades and scholarships and other deals with the devil. See what I mean. How was I supposed to pay attention and take joy in the sun. I was lying there for over an hour, maybe two, just thinking about everything and trying to justify my reasons for not being as happy as a little kid.

With not a single conclusion, I got up and got dressed. The clothes felt scratchy against my skin and it seemed as though the sun was fading away from the day, and it wasn't even noon. What a sadness I felt, heavy and boulder-shaped in my heart, just sitting there weighing me down. I laid down on my rug, in front of the slider, bathed in sunlight. It seemed the sun had changed course, and was now beating down through the imperfections of the glass and onto me in scattered patterns. It was so hot that I undressed leaving only my bathing suit on, and promptly fell asleep.

If someone had taken the time to drive down that dirt road, and they had kept on going past the public beach on Pawtuckaway, and had continued past the boat ramps and flowers in bloom they would have driven right past my house.

And if they had taken the time to glance up and my sliding doors, which resembled huge windows, they would have seen a shy at rest eighteen year old girl sleeping, in her bathing suit, right up next to it. And the sun would be reflecting off of her red hair, and her freckles would be multiplying; and she would be smiling not because of the wonderful dream she was having (which oddly enough included her and some blond haired blue eyed pilot, doing barrel rolls in the sky),

but because she knew, she knew deep from the deepest part of her soul, that when she awoke, she would open her door. She would let the sun go and spread to everyone, and there would be no more suffering because the sun would not be some white tiger at a zoo, entrapped and used to benefit everyone.
It would simply be.
And she would too.