The Forty Files

Love Letters Series
A series of letters to people, things, places, ideas. If you are not romanticizing your life, start now.

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A Love Letter to Winter

Dear Winter,

I joke about you, but the truth is, I do not mind you at all. January and February are not my nemeses. They are simply your deep, quiet, Game-of-Thrones-style episodes, where the members of the Night’s Watch stand frozen and steadfast against the wind. I love this season, even when it is busy, especially when it is especially busy for someone like me: a creative, an academic, a mom with two girls whose birthdays cluster just after Valentine’s Day, tiny reminders that the calendar never sleeps.

Yesterday we went skiing. And by we, I mean the whole family, the chaos and joy and snowflakes swirling together. I helped get the children ready, layered like little marshmallows, then retreated to the snack shack by the fire. Of course, I ventured outside often: to check on them, watch them glide and tumble down the slopes, and feel the sharp kiss of wind on my cheeks. Being from Buffalo, this is my element. The cold does not bite; it invigorates. It makes me feel alive in ways the warmth cannot.

Winter, you are demanding. You fill my calendar and my mind, yet you also give me space to breathe in the crisp white air, to watch my children laugh, to steal moments of quiet reflection beside a fire or on the frozen slopes. You are both a season and a teacher: patience, endurance, awe.

Yes, Groundhog Day is real, and yes, the weeks feel long, but there is love in the repetition, love in the frost, love in the way the world pauses beneath your weight. Thank you for the cold cheeks, the fiery mugs of cocoa, the sharp clarity that only a true winter can bring. You are hard, beautiful, and wholly necessary. For that, I am yours.

Always,

Katie