On Winter by Gabrielle Lazarovitz

Things won’t thaw for a while. You’ve got time. Be still. Be asleep. Dream. The deepest days of winter. An invitation. These groaned-about days where warm commiserations are exchanged in frozen places.

The days forgotten on steamy summer nights where you can hear jazz in the far distance at all hours of the morning? These are not those days. Those days will come. But not now. Now it’s time for rest. Long. And hard. And fully.

Think back. Today smells like every January before. Time does and doesn’t stand still. A life-long love affair that started way back when you didn’t realize how cold it was until you were being called home for dinner. You didn’t notice how quickly the sun rushed to set until you were crashing down the sides of hills in dark dusk. Or stuck in a snow tunnel that only fits tiny hips. It is time for a rest. Take it. Do it. Deeply.

Remember every warm memory of cold. The scrapes of snow being hucked from the driveway. The hill outside a childhood window, pristinely white from last night’s dusting. The headlights of cars coming around corners. The slosh. The smell of salted sidewalks and smoky breath. Strangers pushing cars out of snowbanks. Necks crinkled into scarves. The smell of fires from chimneys. Heaters and mittens. That plastic tray you’d throw your gear on, near the heating vent, to dry off as you ran to cuddle under blankets. Hot chocolate and hotter baths.

Remember there is light. A lot of it, If you know where to look. Like when the moon bounces off snow, lighting up the night daring you to take a walk. The soundtrack of your footsteps crunching down sidewalks. Echoing the feeling of the 90s. Long Decembers. Ice storms. There are reasons to believe.

If you can, let the mornings wake you. The chilly air will snap you to attention whether you want it to or not. Might as well give in. Your mug feels that much warmer as it fights the wind outside. If you can, enjoy that contrast.

A winter dog can teach you to enjoy being outside. If you let him. Dress up. Put on all the layers. Got out every day. Every. Day. Stay out longer. You don’t really have anywhere to be. Do you?

Turn off your phone. The seasons aren’t real there, anyway. Trade blue light for royal purple and 80s-pink skies that last for minutes but stay in your memory forever. Watch your breath swirl into the twilight.

Know that spring will come. And everything that comes with it.

And when you watch TV on warmer days and snow enters the scene, you will remember all this and miss it. And the quiet permission to rest.