Old Man Winter has finally come to visit and leaving his gentle touch wherever he goes. From various colours of grey painted skies, to frosting on our roofs, to the bows of trees sparkling with a web of silver, to his butterfly kisses across my face in the morning air.
And while I mock and tease those who are excited about the first snow, secretly I adore winter. This season always invokes wonderful memories of my childhood past, from snow ball fights and snow angels, to creating paper snowflakes, to being surrounded in family. Longings deep within my soul whirl around like fall leaves caught in a gust of wind.
The white old man reminds me of Christmases past and cherished family members that have long since left this earth. He reminds me of my adored and much loved childhood dog and warm fires, Sundays in pajamas, homemade hot chocolate and baking with my mother.
My memories are vast and large and all encompassing, and much like a scene in a snow globe, they has been frozen in time.
As I get older and our family branches from direction to direction, I can’t quite hold onto the winters of my past. They were simple and uncomplicated and full of beauty and I miss them.
Holidays have become about spreading myself too thin from traveling here to there and seeing this person to seeing that person, and I grow weary of the changes. This time of the year always brings me moments of regret for not having children. And I latch onto my beautiful nieces all the more, well aware that they are growing up. And as one informed me last year, will be moving to a new country for University in one short year and my heart breaks again. I miss her already and fear she won’t come back. I strain to see the child in her but I can’t. And as they grow older, so begins another change to our winter traditions. It is growth.
Why is it that we wish to hold onto those childhood moments. I suppose it’s because as a child they seemed perfect. I am betting however my parents would tell me that they were full of imperfection that my innocent young eyes would not have grasped. I prefer to keep these cherished memories as untarnished highlights of my life.
Beautiful, endearing moments of my heart and I would not have it any other way.
Yes, Old Man Winter is welcome at my house along with his ice encrusted suitcase full of my memories. In fact, I look forward to our first Winter’s dance together, under the sky while snowflake confetti lightly touches my face and sticks to my eyelashes and I twirl under the beauty of it all feeling like the enthralled five year old of my dreams.
He is my winter lover, my solace, my moment of dreams and my friend. And like all old friends, he will always have a place in my heart and in my home.
Until Next Time.