Cloudy days

The sky stands grey and dull, and all on land is quiet and still it seems. There is this feeling of suspension in the atmosphere mixed with gloom. Such is the feeling that cloudy days cause on me, and for some reason, I'm always looking on the outside at the wet, muddy, empty streets. 

 Cloudy days do not have good memories in my mind – I don't particularly hate them nor am I fond of them, they are just this place in my mind that is dull and grey and sad. Well, I guess I don't like them and that's all right. I have a reason you see. From childhood cloudy days represent somberness. 

 My grandmother was buried on a cloudy day – it drizzled too, it seemed as if the sky was mourning with us. At least that's how it looked like to a four-year-old me but I know now that it was not so. However, it was a rather glum coincidence that fitted the mood perfectly. 

 I've noticed that at most funerals – even for ministers and cabinet secretaries, that it tends to drizzle and be a grey cloudy day. Most people I've met say a loved one of theirs was buried on a cloudy day or they receive news of someone's death on a cloudy day.... Strange. Very strange coincidence. 

 That is beside the point. It is just a strange, sad pattern that I have noticed but personally for me, cloudy days started off with an association to a sad episode in my life. After that the thing I remember next and associate cloudy days with is: bondage, feeling trapped and longing for freedom, along with the gloomy feelings. 

 The reason why, is because at my aunt's and uncle's it always seemed like cloudy days were horrible for me – bringers of doom. My aunt's husband Lucas would always be in a sour mood and yell at me, put me down with his words and pinch me or cane me – punish me basically.

 My only resort was the bedroom upstairs – that was my safe haven, where I could isolate myself in misery and loneliness. Sobbing and crying, pining for home. Looking out from the window (which made me feel more like a prisoner) wishing I could go home to my mother where I knew I would be loved and I would be free.

 That is another reason, the third reason is sickness. Cloudy days are cold, and I do not do well in the cold. I tend to get sick therefore I always hope that on particularly wet, windy, cloudy days, that I do not fall prey to a cold or flu. Which usually develops into pneumonia.

 Another thing I've noticed is that cloudy days are quiet and still sometimes in an unsettling way. A boring way rather. Not that I hate being still, I'm good, perfect actually, at being still and at home, I always find something to do. 

 However, on cloudy days I can't find anything to do – I can't think of anything to do other than curl myself in a ball wrapped underneath a blanket and watch TV. I'm slower at times or perhaps that's my mind. Perhaps its Seasonal Affective Disorder which strangely spells the word sad, but I don't believe I have that. There are some few good things I remember and even enjoy about grey, cold, cloudy days. 

 

 For example, I remember playing with two of my friends at my uncle's court on a cloudy day on several cloudy days actually. Bobbi, Sifa and I would hang out together on cloudy days –, perhaps not wanting to stay indoors all day. We would play or talk or watch other children in the court who were younger than us playing.

 I enjoy that on cold cloudy days the air feels clearer and fresher. I love how it feels on my cheeks – although after awhile my cheeks start to feel ice cold and frozen. However, on the whole my mind tends to remember the way I felt in the past, nowadays I feel neutral about cloudy days.