Winter is normally a time when the world catches its breath, balanced between the worn-out old year and the fresh promise of the new. Bears and squirrels disappear into warm caverns and burrows, as the snowfall descends across the naked land. We exchange our short-sleeved shirts for itchy sweaters and lock ourselves inside warm boxes. And when we do go outside, the heat of our breath makes little clouds in the air. We struggle through the winter holidays – rain and snow and colds and flus and now Covid – and wait in expectation for the gentle breezes of spring to bring relief.
Not so much this year.
2025 roared in with a literal bang, when someone blew up a Cybertruck at the front door of the Trump Hotel in Vegas, and another madman smashed his car through a crowd of revelers in New Orleans, to deadly effect.
Instead of ice, Los Angeles is being ravaged by firestorms that are destroying lives, homes, and neighborhoods with a ferocity that has forced firefighters to the sidelines, as the vicious Santa Ana winds continue to blow burning embers far and wide.
And in Washington DC…
Well, these days I find it best for my soul not to think too much about our national politics. I’ve always railed against putting one’s head in the sand, but as the old saying goes, these are times to try men’s souls. Which applies to everyone, regardless of gender (or agender).
So this year I’m trying a new tact. I’ve turned off all of my news feeds. No more NY Times or CNN notices popping up whenever something horrible happens, or whenever the Man in the White House makes another bloviating pronouncement. Instead, once a day, I take a two minute look at the news sites, just to see if the world is still spinning.
It’s like opening the curtains, peering down the street one way or the other, confirming that the winter storm is still raging outside. Then I close the heavy cloth drapes once again to keep out the chill.
And every now and then, instead of a blizzard, I see a squirrel leaving tracks across the white snow. Or a flower poking its head up through the frozen landscape. Or a cheery neighbor waving mitten-covered hands as they pass by walking their German shepherd, as sunlight sparkles on the snow. A glittering bit of hope in the frozen winter hellscape.
Inside, I do my best to take care of myself, my husband, and the people we love, making us a mug full of hot chocolate and gathering them around the fireplace, counting the days until spring comes again.
One thing I learned long ago – no matter how bad things are right now, no matter how cold, time will carry us on like a rushing river to somewhere new. The trials we face today are not for always.
Until the spring finally comes and the snow melts, we just have to keep the boat afloat.