Sweden is gloomy already in late October this year. The light is fading, and the sky is slate, and every morning I walk through new puddles of rain to drop NK off at daycare.
But I am not really that scared this year. Maybe it is our planned Christmas trip to the sun. Maybe I have been in Sweden for a while now. Maybe it is still October and I am simply deceiving myself.
But I believe in the lights, and not the “cozy” candles that everyone pushes but do me no good. I believe in the sunlight above our dining room table. I know where the sunlamp at work is (in a storage room). And I am overjoyed that E painted one-third of the living room yellow today.
Our walls are something that you could call Stockholm white, which is a big color in, ummm, Stockholm. It is a white that creates some space and probably sets off expensive light wood furniture quite nicely. But I find it draining and soulless and cold. It belongs in a waiting room.
Now we are getting a nice yellow that already makes our small room smaller. But I don’t care because of the warmth, of the extra light, because it reminds me of my childhood room and, subsequently, the California sun. Maybe it will help the sunlamp too, so our room does not look like it is under a searchlight on a frigid Cold War-era border, though that does not matter as much as keeping our focus inside rather than the late morning or early afternoon night.