A collection of journal entries: The season of the sun tease

Spring is around the corner and university students are enthusiastic about a new season. (Jennifer William/AQ)

This is a collection of journal entries that students at St. Thomas University wrote for their advanced writing course with Philip Lee, journalism professor at STU.

“People lean against the wall outside of O’Hickeys, smoke drifting from their lips, eyes closed, face lifted. 

They look like they’ve just transported to August, the warmth of the sun on skin, even if the air is still sharp in patches. A bike clatters past. A dog trots alongside. 

Sun hits Queen Street like trying to make up for lost time. The outdoor rink is full of old rides in bright jackets and helmets. They slip and tumble, fall like blocks, then spring back up, grinning and shouting.  

The air smells of melting snow and something sweet, maybe from the cafe two blocks down.” - Jennifer William 

“In the endless February days, I feel the glimpses of warmth from the sun as a pinnacle of hope. 

The calendar insists we are still in deep winter and the crisp air agrees in the mornings. But then, the sun arrives differently in a way that lingers. 

It stretches from the pavement to my skin, trying to remember what it was once capable of. The sun brushed my fingertips with a gentle kiss, like a hesitant promise. 

Yet the cold remains coiled beneath it all. The warmth is a visitor for now, not a resident. 

The light fades and as the air hardens, I hold on to the way the sun rested on my skin, imperfect and real.” - Bailey Young  

 “I think about when I was seven in my family's cottage in Rio, where the wind had the same sound and where life still felt possible. 

I remember the sun on my skin. I remember my father’s hug and my grandfather reading the newspaper. I remember how the grass felt on my feet. I miss not wearing shoes. 

I think about the beach that is walking distance from my house, which is not my house anymore. I miss the sand. I miss the time that feels infinite at the beach. Nothing to do, nothing to say. Just me and the world. Just my skin and the sun. No sunscreen. 

With my eyes closed, I can hear drops of water hitting the ground. Sounds like rain, but it's just the ice melting. My alarm invades my thoughts, dreams and memories. 

I open my eyes and I see the sun invading my room. I'm blinded by the sun reflecting on the snow; it hurts my eyes. Despite my best effort to be teleported, I'm still stuck in winter.

A winter that's in the process of fading away, but still a winter nonetheless.  

I wasn't built for this weather. I was built for heat, for the burning sun and bird sounds. I wish I didn't have to put on any layers. I wish I could just wear my skin.

I know it's coming to an end. I know in no time my feet are going to be touching grass and I'll be lying down under a tree. But right now, I have to dance with the winter while I try not to fall on the cold ice.” - Rafaella Ortega. 

“A couple days of sunny warm weather and everyone trades in their knee-length puffer coats for lighter spring jackets. The paved parking lots and driveways are dry enough to wear your nice sneakers for a day. As long as you avoid the dirty slush on the ground next to the sidewalk.  

On the way into the movie theater, my boyfriend tells me he wishes he wore shorts and I believe him. I admire the tenacity of hopeful Canadians who will dress for a beautiful spring day, even though the weather still hasn't hit above zero.” - Anna-Leah Simon.