while waiting

Today my day is green. Dark green. Strangely enough, considering the snow is twinkling of euphoria in the last sun beams of the year. Still, my day is dark green. With a little hint of orange in the upper left corner, and an invisible dilapidated cottage in the background. And all over the green, there are dozens of little dots of yellow in a rather chaotic order. To some it might look a lot like stars shining through the northern lights, but to those who are lucky enough to own a pair of binoculars, will find that the dots are actually tiny cones. Yellow cones. Naturally. Lying there, only because they are mandatory on green surfaces.

A mystical fog full of secrets is leaking from the ground, making an inexplicable sound that can make anyone blue. The smell. Yes, the smell is of a mix between magic and sorrow. In fact very similar to the smell of which you notice on the morning of a particularly freezing day, in the middle of autumn. The very morning you cannot tell with absolute certainty if it is autumn or winter. That is my dark green day.

Perhaps it will change. Then I hope it will turn light indigo. With four cute squirrels jumping around on a trampoline. Not because they got nothing better to do, simply because they felt like jumping on a trampoline. For fun. Decisive squirrels. And I want the moon leaning on upper left corner, occasionally laughing with a surprisingly cute and thin laughter, the kind of laughter that makes everyone else laugh. And in this indigo day, I'd like to be able to wander into that perfect, little, and visible cottage that doesn't have a key to it. And I'd like to sit there, with all my confidence, contentment and safety, and watch the four decisive squirrels rejoicingly jumping just for the fun of it all.

But for now, my days keep coming as dark green. I guess I'll just have to welcome them. Too. For all I know, they might come in disguise. At one point they might call out my name, say “look, Astrid! Look at me!”, pull off their costumes, and look at me with all their indigoness and false innocence, waiting for me to burst into a relieved laughter. For all I know, days might have the most wicked sense of humor. I cannot wait to see it.