I am sitting cross-legged on my purple sheeted bed, eyes closed, hands folded in my lap. Breathing, breathing, breathing. Meditation has become a part of my daily routine. But then… I feel sun on my eyelids, and my whole spirit leaps up. My heart starts thudding against my chest, and the cells of my body seem to strain forward to meet the light. I try to stay focused on the meditation, but sun is so rare here, that I just can’t. I open my eyes. There is still three minutes on my timer, but I shut it off and run outside with a smile on my face.
I take my underwear off the covered line, and lay them out in the sun. I lift the damp sarong from where it hangs, and spread it out on the roof, flat, absorbing the sun. It will be dry in no time. I snatch the red shirt from the rusted bar where it has been airing for six days and still managed not to dry, and I lay it across the stone bench in front of my door. Fantastic! The water in my clothes might actually evaporate.
Then I trot to the loo, enjoying the sunshine on my head and shoulders. When I return a few minutes later, a thick gray cloud has overtaken the sun. I look up and shade my eyes. Stacked clouds stretch away as far as I can see. The little patch of blue sky that invited my momentary exhilaration is already floating away, getting smaller and smaller as the day resumes its shifting, gray tone. I look to my colorful underwear, lying out hopefully, unwilling to believe the sun has already left. I see my melancholy blue sarong, disappointed at having been liberated into sunlight only to be returned to its damp perch on the line. I glance at the red shirt, forlorn and slightly angry on the bench. They all seem to accuse me- Why did you get excited for nothing? Why did you take us out only to put us away!?