A grey day affects my soul. I need the sun. I crave the sun. I live near the beach and the fog can roll in and sit over Redondo Beach. It could be 90 or 100 degrees in the blistering sun in Burbank, yet Redondo can be fogged in with only a shadow of the sun appearing above the moisture laden fog and dark clouds. Even if I’m indoors my body seems to know that what it needs is not available that day. I get sad. I get mopey. Everything is magnified if these grey days occur on a weekend. I want – no I need – to be outdoors in the sun. I’ve been known to wash my car in the mist of this kind of day – just to be outdoors. I’ve taken walks on the beach bundled up to cast away the chill – just to breathe the fresh air that I usually miss on a cloudy overcast day. The beach is a peaceful place then, not many other people have my craving need to be outside and breathe the beach air. I am alone and sad as I walk and breathe the chilled air and I watch the sky. I watch the fuzzy sun as the clouds wisk in front of it at varying speeds. I watch the sun and wonder how it feels to be hidden from me. Is it peaking at me in between the clouds? Does it miss me as much as I miss it’s warmth that seeps into my skin and becomes a part of me?