The weather in Overland Park, Kansas made the front page news in Florida. It's cold, we're grouchy and just as soon as the driveway gets shoveled, another snow comes during the night. The farmer's almanac predicted a bad winter and the snow drifts prove it right. Temperatures are in the teens with high winds that slice through your clothes and the sun doesn't even want to come out. My street entrance has so much ice packed on top of each layer from the snow plows that it feels like I'm driving over a curb. I'm constantly mopping the floor from wet boots, still worried about my son's concussion from his fall. Why don't I move? Winter is a dear old friend. She shortens my days, forcing my family inside. We're eating homemade soups, breads and pastas together. We laugh, stay up later, drink hot teas, finish projects.
Her breath is quiet late at night. There is magic in her mood, giving me time to reflect. Time to pause, time to admire her long icy fingers and smoothe white skin that sparkles under the moon. Trees crack in the distance from the weight of her cold touch and I'm empathetic to her pain. She is pregnant with life, her labor reminds me of the beautiful spring that she will soon birth. Three more months! Brrrr cold.