It Felt Like Warm, Buttered Toast

She had wondered about sunlight. And twirly, loopy, sunshiny days. Where were those days, she asked as she looked out at the damp, overcast wedge outside the window. 

It made her heart sink to think that the little child was 3 and had never seen a true sunshiny day. What was it like, asked the child. To have never ending sun?

Oh, she said. Lovely. Just undescribably lovely. You feel light and flighty as you watch the sun baking your heart to perfection. It felt like warm, buttered toast inside. 

And best of all, you stay crispy the whole day.

And you don't have to carry an umbrella at all, asked the child?

Not at all. Not on buttered toast days.