005: the sun that stood still

on the solstice, grief, endings, and the Mediterranean

December is obtuse. I felt the end of this year hurtling towards me like an avalanche. The cascading temperatures, overcast skies, and shortened days a parasitic deadweight leeching off my depleted energy reserves. December brings a fleeting sense of disembodiment that blindsides me on idle afternoons. Weird cognitive glitches where I suddenly crave full dissociation from my surroundings. But my overwhelm is concurrent with my gleeful anticipation of ending a cycle. While the “new year” is technically a construct, the illusion of closure brought on by that annual rendezvous is undeniably soothing.

Lately, I’ve been scouring my brain for happier moments to relive. When I think of what that process looks like, I imagine my memories set up like a Rolodex made from animated reels spinning feverishly when prompted by the right external stimulus. Like the smell of sautéing garlic and cumin. The feel of a warm breeze. The sound of a familiar tune. Other times, the Rolodex starts spinning whe…