When sunsets are a reason to cry

My most happy sunsets always started in late February, or early March. In those weeks, it was still dark and cold, but sometimes the horizon was already burning with things about to come.

Every year for a week in March I would visit my mother and the city I grew up in and also be a music teacher in a project that is the main reason for me ever haven gotten in touch with music and creativity. Whatever happened in between, I knew I would be back next year. This gave me a lot of energy. The kind of energy an overly emotional and overthinking person like me needs to regularly check for E-Mails or even face exam results. I was in university to become a teacher, so a life that felt just like this was my goal.

During those days I saw many old friends, and I remember nights of ice cream and wine, and running through the cold rain to get rainbow sparkles for a special kind of midnight dessert.
I remember the feeling of looking up into the rain in those nights, and I also realize that I have not felt like that ever since I left on March the 6th in 2020, never thinking I would not come back for this long.

This certain feeling is like a sparkle. It makes me smile and I am having a song on my lips. It feels like a piano playing a melody that is sad but somehow also it is not. It feels like sitting on the balcony and candle light late on my mother‘s birthday and having conversations with people all night.

I sometimes think I can trick my brain into releasing this feeling without there being an actual cause for it, but then it only overdoses and I stop sleeping and am getting high on strawberries and cream.

It sounds as if I am yearning to go back, but actually I am not anymore.
I have missed all of this so much that I could barely function for over a year of my life. I have to distance myself from all of this.

Still, a beautiful sunset makes me cry now and then, and I feel my soul vibrating on this old frequency, and that will never completely stop, I suppose.

I still don‘t think I could just go back, if the pandemic would end tomorrow and my mother would feel good about having me in her house again and the music project could take place again.
In all these tough nights I could not be there. When Johnny died, I was not there. I will never find time in an already much too stressful week to visit my grandmother, because she has also died. And I did barely share my feelings with any of them throughout all of this time, because the days were flying by in an awful silence.

I want to learn to be a version of me that does not fall apart when being on my own.