There should be snow soon. It shouldn’t be a big storm but enough to freshen up what is already on the ground. Whatever sticks will soon melt, to be replaced by warmer temperatures and rain later in the week.
It is hard to believe that it is already the end of January. My mom’s sixtieth birthday party on New Year’s Day feels so long ago, but also like no time has passed. What have I done in the subsequent weeks? I feel as if I have muddled through this new year, unaware of the passage of time.
I feel a bit like the weather, unable to settle or find my footing. There have been mild days, soaking rain, snow, frigid temperatures, and soon mild weather again. It is as if winter hasn’t quite figured itself out yet. Or maybe winter is just different now. Maybe there will be more rain, cold but still wet, flooding yards and making everything gray and muddy. My daffodils sprouted weeks ago.
Do I miss the flowers yet? Not really, to be honest. It feels likes winter has only just begun and in a few days it will feel like spring. I know I will long for them soon, yearn for the warm sun on my face. But for now I want there to be snow instead of rain, frozen earth instead of sprouting spring bulbs.
I have always been a bit rigid, unable to easily shift with the tides. Is it too much to ask January to feel like January? Or must I change my thinking, embrace this rollercoaster of a season, hope that next year will be better.
I have always been a bit rigid but I can’t embrace the rain in January, the daffodils wanting to grow. I wonder what this month will mean to my children. Maybe the snow days and the landscape of white will slowly recede from their memories and someday we will talk about them and say once upon a time.