It is fitting, I suppose, that on the first day of winter I woke up to frozen pipes and a car that would not start. After giving my car a much appreciated jump, my dad snapped my photo with his phone as I scraped the ice off my windshield and said, "it's like a scene out of Fargo." We drove around picking up some winter necessities I'd managed to avoid purchasing thus far, namely jumper cables and a space heater, and as we drove back to my parents' house I was struck by how different my life is now from this time last year, or the year before that, etc. It astonishes me how much can change in a year's time, and makes me excited for the year(s) to come.
Winter is not my favorite season, as everyone is well aware. But the English major in me loves the metaphor. I love the cold death of the season, the house of ice, the hibernation of everything with a heartbeat. And then the promise of Spring.
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