Message in a Bottle 15
I know it might not last very long, but here’s to hoping it sticks around at least for February.
When the snow came yesterday, I was met with a happiness I didn’t expect. I know it sounds silly, especially to everyone who was enjoying the clear roads and warmer temps, but it really felt like something was missing this winter. Something WAS missing and I haven’t felt right inside in consequence. I didn’t even know how much I was missing it, until the snow started falling yesterday.
I listened to the Narnia soundtrack and strolled down the street in bliss, maybe one of the only Minnesotans welcoming the belated snow. If I lived in a southern state, I would miss the snow, but I’d get over it in a way. But I still live in Minnesota, and Minnesota winters are SUPPOSED to be snowy!
Before yesterday, some hollow feeling had been knocking around inside my ribs. I hadn’t been able to place it. Then the snowflakes were catching in my hair as comfortably as they blanket the pines and those whimsy marsh plants down the street.
The hollow feeling was defined. I missed the frosty mornings, crystals glistening on every surface for one perfect moment before the sun melts them.
I missed the muffled, complete silence of the woods, the peace of the world sleeping through the cold.
I missed the river ice and stupidly bright nights after a fresh snowfall.
Yes, I missed winter.
But it’s even more than that because when things are so out of control, when you can’t seem to ever get on top of health issues, when the world keeps breaking … little things like that quiet my soul.
For a moment, when it was just me, the snow, my music, and my God, for a moment the world didn’t feel like it was ending.
I think it’s good to have reminders like that, little things that bring us back to the ground beneath our feet and the breath in our lungs.
Because even if the world is on its way to ending, for now, winter still comes to blanket the world, and after that it will thaw. Tulips will spring up and then hostas, and lilies, and irises. The sun will arm our skin and we’ll share ice cream with our friends. Vegetables will be in the gardens, some of them saved for canning when the air gets crisper again, the leaves turn, and the earth heaves a sigh of nostalgia. And when it's winter again (a more proper one at that), I’ll cherish it all the more.
It’s a steady rhythm we can count on. Our creator made it so.
Fair winds, following seas, and God bless,
--Ellie