by Olivia
Winter Solstice. The shortest day of the year. You know, they say it’s the longest night. The world tilts just far enough for the dark to stretch its fingers across every hour. A turning point that feels odd compared to other days. The edge of the year’s breath—one last inhale before the slow exhale into light rebuilding as the year rewinds to January again. I dread that night. There’s something about the idea of having more darkness that makes thoughts louder and scarier. You feel it all creeping in once evening starts.
But some years feel different. Maybe because I’ve started to understand that the solstice isn’t just about the dark. It’s also about the light. The earth, even now, is turning toward the sun—quietly, without asking for permission or acknowledgment. It’s the slow growth of light, second by second, day by day, and so forth.
So here’s a reminder: even in our coldest season, and during our longest nights the light will come back to shine again. Applying that to real life isn’t easy sometimes. People have longer sections of gloomy states than Earth, and the light builds back in just as slow or even slower. But, if we persevere and strive to push away the darkness with our own bare hands just like daylight taking over duskiness then we can possibly forget about the chance of having moments like the nights of Winter Solstice. Or at least less frequent so we can have our own light-filled days.