You have been scarce for a while now, and I’ve missed you keenly. I understand that you do that whole limited daylight thing from about mid-fall to mid-winter, and that’s primarily our fault here in the Northern Hemisphere, tilting away from you like we do and all. I’m resigned to that. Your gravitational pull probably doesn’t help any. No offense.
I don’t know if you know this about me, but I need you. A lot. It’s a wrench, a deep one, every October when I feel you slipping away. I try not to take it personally. The weather doesn’t help any though. Granted I picked a lousy place to live out the winter months. Ok, most of the year really. Not sure what I was thinking there. That beautiful Great Lake to the north sort of guarantees clouds. Often. In the winter, however, the clouds upon clouds upon clouds day after day after day just add insult to the injury of your prolonged absence. Your distance becomes intolerable. Whole days — even a week! — go by without so much as a glimmer from you. Not your fault, of course. Just part of living along this particular edge of a large body of water, I suppose.
Point is, I miss you. When you do show yourself it’s for far too short a time, you know that, yes? You must have noticed all the attention you get when I do catch sight of you. It’d be hard to miss! Camera comes out, smile turns on, extra long walks with the dog in the middle of the day just for an excuse to be near you, and sometimes just foolishly standing and staring, bending toward you like a sunflower. Idiotic really how I forget myself when you’re around. I don’t know why you’d stay away!
You really should stop being such a stranger, you know. Hope to see you for a bit longer tomorrow.
All the best,