This day

On the shortest, darkest, most bitterly cold day of Winter, I push through with the dream of this day.

I endure the white and the grey and the way my fingers feel like they just might fall off, giving up their battle against the frost and the ice, because I know this day is out there.

I live for this day. For the warmth of the sun on my bare shoulders and the way it shines so brightly. The grass seems to radiate bright and green and my eyes ache from the intensity. But it is the intensity of life. Everything is wildly alive and pulsating in summer song. I’ll make the effort to sing a few jingle bells in Winter so that I can belt out Summer songs when the sun is high in the sky.

On the shortest, darkest, most bitterly cold day of Winter, this day is a beautiful dream. It holds hours upon hours of promise, more than could comfortable fit within just one day. But I heap more on anyway because why not? I dream of little hands sending splashes of water into the sky, racing their voices to the clouds. I dream of cones piled up high with ice cream and sprinkles and faces covered in chocolate. I dream of chasing the waves down the shore and running as they chase me back.

All Winter long, I dream of Summer.

And then it arrives. And it’s hotter than it was in my dreams. The warmth I dreamed of not quite as comfortable as I imagined it would be. And though I dreamed of carefree days, there are still cares. There is summer camp and work to do and broken refrigerators. There is dinner to make and laundry to clean and this day will go by without even a moment spent standing in the vibrant green grass as the sun pours warmth on us. It slips right on through, just a day, nothing special.

And then, this day is over. It’s gone. And that one slips by too. And suddenly we’re hurtling towards fall and bustle and sweaters and pumpkins with those Jingle Bells once again ringing in our ears.

And the dream begins again.

It seems such a waste. To dream these dreams and then let them fall into the bottom of the laundry basket with that sock that never seems to make it into the washer. It seems so irresponsible to not splash every day when the sun shines and warms the earth. To not indulge in the taste of summer piled high on a cone. What use is a dream if you don’t make it come true when you have the chance?

So today, we will eat ice cream. We will splash. This day, we will live the dream. And when the cold winds blow again I’ll stay warm with memories of this day.

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For more inspiration to go seize the day and make the moments count, check out my latest on the Huffington Post: We Will Take Walks.