I followed in the footsteps of my former self, trusting the first consistent rays of sunlight as a reliable sign spring was near. I used to rely of my sense of smell to know when it was time. My sense of smell is dormant right now: April’s almost over and I have yet to sense a proper change in the air. One day the sun shines and the other snow, although only timidly, makes a comeback. I’m not complaining. I rather like it this way. I’ve been browsing through photos taken recently in the home country and the sweaty faces of the southerners, together with weather reports, completely freaked me out. It’s already summer there and summers in the South are sticky as death. I suspect though that what feels as lingering cold for me must feel as the exact opposite to the locals. Stormy clouds only gather over the head of the pessimist, according to stereotype, and it’s a bit too late for me to successfully convert to the Icelandic þetta reddast, it’ll work out, faith.
I walk around carrying a burden that weights on my back and legs, a tiny lump of dark mood that constant bad weather seem to inflate, while possibilities retreat as days are drawing out. A season of drizzle and sleet, an irresponsible spring dispersing light only while one is busy confronting forgettable daily setbacks.
The last was a spring all wrapped in volcanic ash; this one is disguised as many impending terrors. From the recent choice of Icelanders to commit what was defined a financial suicide, to unequivocal lassitude of personal luck, to a mother whose laconic messages speak of missing cats and other frightening trivialities from thousands of kilometers away: everything seems to suggest there is something afoot, and the human mind never tires of overspeculating. Does it work in the same way for just anybody, also for those with shiny teeth and pleasing manners? After all, I still wonder. When are we supposed to be free? Years ago, I stopped believing in seasonal rebirth: no one past twenty-two is free, not even when the good weather comes.
Will it rain ice today? Will the wind blow wildly over the ocean? Right now it’s so sunny outside, it’s almost blinding. Can I let myself be tricked again?
I imagine Iceland as a land where spring is very gentle. Wehre I live , it’s warm all year round. I would like a long winter once in a while.