The New Year’s winter morning is warmer than most, by far the warmest I’ve felt all year round. There is no cold, chilling breeze and the frost flakes that usually grace our January mornings have been reported missing. Despite this, the trees still stand tall, almost victorious at the prospect of survival during these winter months. The little flies that gather in groups are still tormenting unsuspecting passer-by’s who happen to stumble into their group home.
I open my window to catch some polluted air, as the layers of clothing piled on me feels suffocating. The air is better than imagined, even my dying plants on my window sill seems to notice. It is a good morning to start 2019. I hear the birds chirping outside, allowing me to imagine that I lived somewhere other than the congested city of London. The pigeons and the cars compete to be heard, each overtaking the other in volume before both are silent. The silence is almost alarming, especially for London, but then again one must remember, it is New Year’s Day. The children have started to leave their homes to enjoy the perfectly pleasant British weather, speaking amongst themselves before agreeing on a game. The parents stand by and chatter amongst themselves, sharing their hopes and dreams for 2019, their newly made resolutions.
The sky’s mass has been overtaken with clouds, not a space left for the sky to peep through. It would be more shocking to the soul to see a blue sky in January. Yet I miss the sky. Not once during the month of December did my gaze venture upwards to assess the sky, but today, I feel the need for some blue skies. Checking my weather App, I’ve been informed that the weather is 11 degrees outside. 11 degrees! I’ve seen summer months where 15 degrees was acceptable, and here in the depths of winter, on the very first day of the year, we are blessed with 11 degrees.