The sun finally came out this afternoon. It was reluctant at first, sort of peeking through the clouds until all the corners of gray had faded into the distance. The moment I noticed the light I felt a bit giddy. It’s been days since we’ve seen the sun. It didn’t matter that the sun illuminated the dust on my floors, the streaks on my windows, and the fingerprints on every surface. I just wanted to bask in its warmth and radiance.
During the dry season in Mumbai the sun is out every day, almost without exception. Practically to the point of annoyance (#firstworldproblems).
You always need your sunglasses. There’s no excuse for curling up on the couch with a good book. And more often than not, you find yourself sweating in the late afternoon.
The sun in Mumbai holds a completely different meaning than the sun on Bainbridge.
Like so much of life, the inconveniences and stumbling blocks of our days hold a completely different meaning depending on the light they’re cast in.
Our faces are growing long around these parts. The last of our family has left. Departing chores are creeping onto our to-do lists. We talk of closing up the house and final grocery store runs. We know our time is ticking.
Our return to Mumbai will mark our final five months in India. I’m overcome with both relief and disbelief when I think about it.
I want to appreciate the sun while we are there. The light it casts on our beloved school. Our amazing friends. The loud honking and thrilling rickshaw rides. The awkward and inconvenient ways of life.
All of it.
Soon it will be gone and our Indian days, that often can seem so annoying and mundane, will only appear in our memories.
Much like a ray of sun during a long Seattle winter.