Something rare and wonderful is happening. It's a gray, cloudy day in Texas.
Most of my fellow depressed people get worse in the winter, when the days are darker. I'm just the opposite.
The summers here are endless. The bright sun hurts my eyes. I can feel the pain in my spirit. The wet heat burdens my soul. I can't breathe.
But days like this sing to me. I can see. I can breathe. The air is full of life. The blues and grays are the colors of joy. The bare trees, like hands raised to Heaven, add to the music.
Right now I can only dream of these things. I have walking pneumonia, and my lungs are too sickly for me to go outside. I can only hope for more lovely gray days.
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