The first day of summer. Or, as the Swedes more accurately say, midsommar. For just as the first day of winter is the turning point, after which we climb out of the valley of the shadow, midsommar is the end of the swelling of the days. The air grows thicker but the days grow shorter.
Still, it is a mental thing. We see today as a beginning. We give ourselves to the sun - except, of course, for confused worshipers such as I, who both adore and fear the sun for its power to grant both joy and death. Nothing like being a melanoma-surviving SAD-sufferer to create a constant approach-avoidance struggle with the sun god.
And then there is the philosopher, who brings light to my life on the darkest of days, and fills me with both love and pain. But while I shield myself from the sun with cloth and chemicals, I offer myself to my master naked and unprotected, body and heart and soul.
And I grow and I glow as his eyes and his cane burn through me.