Frostwritten

Winter has been difficult.

I don’t know why I expect it to be different, year to year. It is always the hardest season for me. But this winter has been especially challenging. I have felt its coldness all the way through my bones.

In November, shortly after Thanksgiving, I had to say goodbye to my sixteen-year-old cat. It was sudden, and though she was old, it was unexpected. I don’t think I have fully unpacked that emotional baggage yet. I still think I’ll see her little face waiting for me at the top of the stairs when I get home from work. I miss her resting her head on my leg when I watch a movie on the couch. She was the best, and I am still adjusting to living my life without her.

She loved the snow. Not being in it, obviously. But she loved to watch it fall. She’d sit at the window, mesmerized as the flakes tumbled from the sky.

Last week it snowed quite a bit in my little pocket of Pennsylvania. I liked snow as a kid, although it’s more of a nuisance now that I’m older and have to drive in it. We haven’t had much snow for the last few years, so the fact that it’s already snowed three different days in January is a bit of a surprise.

I left work the other night, close to midnight, and it was still snowing a bit, though it had snowed most of the day. I usually just hustle to my car as quick as I can, trying not to slip on the slick pavement, but instead, I looked up at the parking lot lights, and for a few moments, I watched the snow fall. Thick flakes, swirling lazily in the night. It was quiet, and calm, and though it was cold outside I felt warmth. Life has felt out of control lately, like I’m spinning and unable to stop, but slowing down, and taking a moment to breathe, made me feel like I’d finally gotten time to decompress.

There’s something magical about snow, and I think I lost that feeling over the years. The simple feeling of wonder, watching the world around you being covered in white. It’s not an enduring magic – snow often becomes gross and slushy, or mixes with dirt and gravel and turns gray – but even if the beauty fades, and the peace is fleeting, it’s worth appreciation. It can be a thing of wonder, no matter how brief.

I think I need to remember to look at things the way my cat used to. And to cherish the good memories, and the simplest beauty, even when the hurt is fresh.