January is the longest month ever.
And also the shortest.
The darkness drags on and on.
The cold lingers inside my bones.
It's always been this way. It probably will always be this way.
Death is a good reminder of life. After the death comes the life. Comes the warmth. Comes the flowers and the green and the being outside without coatshatsglovesboots.
But it gets old.
It's why this place has been empty for so long. What is there to write about when its all so still, so quiet, so dark. But also so loud and chaotic and the posse is basically breaking down the walls to get outside?
It's felt like something to endure. Something to 'hold your breath and close your eyes and just get through it'
BUT what if instead it was celebrated for what it is?
Celebrate Wyoming winters? I hardly recognize the girl who got along famously in a sub-Saharan country.
We are going to start by getting coatshatsglovesboots on and going outside.
I cross country skied today, for the second time ever. It was SNOWING. Coming down. The whole 2 hours we were out. Never let up. And it was beautiful. Mostly quiet. Trees, clouds, snow, friend, dog, me. No screaming. No attitude.
The peace that is found in the stillness, in the laughter, in long answers to short questions, in the working hard to get up that hill only to turn around and come gliding down it…that is what I am determined to make of my winters. Memories.
Memories that include the cold, the snow, the grayness.
Every season has its merit and ALL THINGS PASS. It will not stay this way forever.
(which means you will be hearing more from me!)