The days are short and dark now. Compressed between them is a claustrophobic grey that lasts mere seconds before it’s night again. It’s always night or always going to be night. Night looms like an antagonist in a pantomime waiting for the crowd to jeer when they see it. At whatever point in the day I can touch it. This endless night makes me feel dragged down like everything is impossible. The next cycle of laundry, the next commute to work, the next time I have to touch my toes to put my shoes on; all of it unimaginable in the dark.

Recently I forced myself out into the darkness to see a beloved friend. I moaned about it all day and cursed my past self for making the plan. I dragged my feet on the pavement as I walked to the restaurant. My thumbs twitched with the desire to pull out my phone and cancel. Going out felt like the last thing I wanted to do on Earth. But then I rounded the corner and saw them standing under the warm light of a lamppost. They turned and their face lit up when they saw me. I rushed to them and we hugged, and suddenly it wasn’t so cold anymore. Over dinner we talked in a tangle, interrupting each other with conversation that spilled out onto the tablecloth. They told me about the recent tragedies of their love life, about Barbara from work, about a girl from our secondary school who is pregnant now. I laughed until my cheeks hurt and my vision blurred with tears. One moment I was cackling with no awareness of how loud I was being, and the next my stomach was in so many knots I could only wheeze when I tried to speak.

Once we finished our meal we left the restaurant. We hugged, said goodbye and then continued to chat on the corner. I could have chatted there until the dawn of the grey morning and the next round of night after that. When we spoke our breath formed clouds in front of our faces. But I didn’t mind that I couldn’t feel the ends of my fingers nor that my nose had turned red. Finally, we hugged again and left one another.

I walked home smiling into the darkness. I walked over a bridge and saw the city lights twinkling, luminous against the blackout sky. I bounced down the streets and felt like I was floating. I tried to turn the corners of my smile down but I couldn’t because I was still laughing at reruns in my head. I felt like I could do anything. I could move to a different country, join a commune, be an artist, or do something I’ve never done or even thought to do before. I thought about the future and it felt so hopeful, like I was skipping towards guaranteed happiness. I felt like I finally understood the impulse behind a flash mob. I was just weightless and so, so happy.

I love golden moments like this because the joy lasts. A few days later, I was walking my usual route during my lunch break. The autumn leaves had been swept into neat piles dotting the pavement. Luckily I was wearing my boots, so I walked to one of the piles and jumped in. Three large, knees lifted jumps, and every time I landed the leaves crunched under my feet. I jumped in them because they were there and I was there and I could. It made me so happy. Not only because I was jumping in them, but because I had taken the opportunity to feel free joy. Even though it was sleeps away from seeing my friend, I know I would not have seen the opportunity in front of me without them.

Everyone talks about the importance of friends and friendship love but times like that remind me that it’s not just a concept, it is real. That feeling is love, I know it is. Just one dinner cast such a long happy shadow. Even the endless night felt different. I didn’t dread the next coming of darkness. I didn’t mind the grey so much anymore. I smiled into the night once and I could do it again. It made me feel like I was going to have a beautiful life no matter the short days and constant darkness, because how could I not when all this joy is only one dinner away?

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