Hot

The weekly theme for Thursday Challenge is hot.

Don't talk to me about the blues

It’s funny, how all of the sudden it hits you. The sky is clear blue, the sun is warm, full and shiny, you feel the heat on your skin and you close your eyes.

It’s a mistake. The shade behind your eyelids turns into pitch-dark, and your vision becomes black.

No, it’s not funny, I had it wrong. It’s sad, the unexpectedly gripping moment of anguish. The flood of anxiety crashing over you. It’s horrible, and it makes you think how thin the line is, just a mere stripe that hinds you from falling down and drowning. Beneath. Under of this everything.

The feeling of being safe is just an illusion. You are not safe with depression. Never. Never.

Don’t tell to me about the blues, blues is only music.

Childhood

When I was little, we used to spend some time of those long, hot summers of childhood in Hanko. We made daytrips to the beaches of this southern town, and occasionally we lived in some villa. Hanko is famous for its villas, some private, and some turned into boarding houses for the summer people who invade this otherwise sleepy town.

I remember the sunny days, the beaches of golden and hot sand, the ice cold water in the beginning of June turning into a sea of hotness when reaching August. The taste of strawberries with whipped cream, the softness of the cup of hot chocolate in the morning.

Tender times to reminisce when you’re growing old.