My mother died on the Winter Solstice in 2017.
This year marked the one year anniversary. The days of solstice this year, immediately preceding the Christmas holiday as they nefariously always do, were dark for me, in every conceivable way a day could be dark.
We wait in the solstice. Sit in the dark and wait for the sun to return, to rescue us from the dark. We feel abandoned. But it is not the sun who leaves the Earth. It is the Earth who runs from the sun, tips away from the healing rays, from the light that gives it life.
The sun never leaves, it holds its position, waiting for the Earth to straighten herself out, to remember how much, despite her scars, her wounds and her ever increasing burdens, she wants to live.
The Earth waits three days for the sun to return. It waits in vain, for the sun has never left. After three days of darkness, it is not the sun that moves, but the Earth. It rights itself on its axis, slowly, day by day, returning itself to the light.
I have been waiting in vain in the dark for the light to return, when all I needed to do, is straighten myself out.
