Thursday we had a nice little blizzard in the morning just so winter could scare us before leaving, as it seems to be doing this weekend.
Not like we still don’t have three feet of snow and a lake of solid ice to melt before then, but at least the road is muddy and my car starts in the mornings without a heat lamp under the oil pan.
I came from spring into winter, which is usually the opposite choice at this time of year. I was afraid I would find the switch depressing. Not so.
The cold up here is cleaner than down south and less damp.
The real difference though, I have decided, is the attitude surrounding it. Winter is not endured like it seems to be down south. Winter is just winter. You live and you play and you walk to school and feed your dog just like any other day.
Today though, water is making little rivers down the roads and filling up the potholes to the brim. I wore a sweater to church and didn’t sit on the bench behind the wood stove like I usually do to keep my feet warm.
A good thing too, that changing benches act.
Last Sunday night, while wiggling along the pew in an attempt to avoid little tickling fingers, I rubbed my shoulder up against the back of the bench and a 1 ½ in wooden splinter promptly slid into my back. That never happened to me before.
Which makes sense, since a lot of things in the last four weeks have never happened to me before.
I never won third place in a jigging contest until last week, despite my love of dancing around and falling over my own feet. (And don’t tattle. It wasn’t real dancing really)
One night I spent the late hours staring at the ceiling, thinking about how I really would’ve hated to be Johny Cash’s first wife, even if he could sing all deep and romantic.
I’ve listened to Brittany Spears while partridge hunting which, I must say, lends a certain aura to the sport I’ve never experienced.
In fact, a lot of music that I tend to mock has been pumped into my ears the last while and you might catch me singing Katy Perry by accident, since the kids put certain songs on repeat and repeat and repeat and it’s not my fault that they get stuck in my head.
(Brothers, don’t go into cardiac arrest)
I’ve also played x-box.
( Mom, help them off the floor)
See world, I’m mellowing out a bit.
I’ve helped bandage wounds where the cause was different from the usual pressure ulcer or knee surgery, which was eye-opening in many ways.
It’s been good.
Good like head thrown back laughing, and she looks up from wrapping her arms around your waist and touches your cheeks. “You have lots and lots of lines in your face when you laugh” And you just laugh some more.
I am full, full.
Up to the brim full of emotion and laughter and struggle.
I feel very, very alive right now.