#letterstomarch

Spring has been a good guest this year. Staying as long as March in this tropical hell, the seasonal affectations have been kind. It is Sunday, and it is bright in its yolky glaze, while a steady wind brushes the roughened skin of the harsh winter. The sky is a swipe of the clear blue of the bluest coasts and the mango trees brimming with promises for the summer. It is a day to be out with families, out with friends, out with companions and lovers. It is one of those days where the afternoon sun allows you to soak in the warmth without being burnt. To go out for a swim, to sit by the lake and laze the afternoon away. Those who do not particularly want to be outdoors in fear of whisking away their preserved physical sanitations, they could simply sit on a porch, with lemonades and Iced potions and look at roses with the rose-colored glasses of life. You could pick up the book you have been meaning to read and sleep a little. Watch a movie perhaps, that has been all the rage for someone that Cupid has struck you with. Those in love could pick this beautiful afternoon and dissolve into the dusk together. Create a perfect Spring memory.

As for me, I have surrendered the thought of spending Sundays in companionship. I am absorbing the world around me, the comfort and solitude this day provides. I would have loved to go away somewhere, anywhere, by the lake, by the woods, by some dense shrubbery, by some lovely cafe by the city. I would have enjoyed this beautiful afternoon in the nest of my loved ones, on the dining table with my family, next to the friends of decades, and more. I would have enjoyed the simple pleasures of this life with perhaps, a little tinge of modern hedonism, had not life bound me by the chains of the mundane, the quotidian, and the melancholy.

So, I will spend this Sunday in remembrance, exerting the last ounce of energy to finish the ordeals of my occupational hazards, of academia and its wrath, and shirking away the thought of being loved on a Sunday.

What about you?