There’s a lot to love about winter. Cold cheeks. Dark days. The smell of people when the come in from the snow. Today I filled up my grocery cart with carrots and fat winter radishes. I bought orange juice and frozen berries and marrow bones the size of an arm. I went to the bakery. My car smells like bread.
This year I find myself angry at winter. I am angry at the stacks of coats and mittens required to leave the door with three small children. I am angry at the piles of coats and mittens piled up on the kitchen floor when we get home. I am angry that I let these things keep me inside. I like fresh air. I don’t mind that my feet get cold.
It is helpful to remember how short this season is. There are three coats to zip, countless mittens to loose track of, daily naps to orchestrate, and meals and diapers and dishes. But next year, I probably will only have two coats to zip. Then it will be one. Helen cleared her breakfast plate from the table this morning. She put her leftover waffle in the trash and the dishes in the sink. No one even asked her. Reed can fry an egg.
There will come a day when one of the kids will make dinner and we will all stay up late together playing gin. I’ll go to Christmas parties and be able to keep both eyes on the person I’m taking to. Maybe even help with dishes.
But meanwhile, it’s winter. And it’s not perfect, but I’ll take it as it is.
And I’ll try to remember to tuck good things into all of its pockets.