I Think I Can Make It Through Winter Now Without an Intervention
I hunted through my Flickr archives today, hoping to find a collection of photos I uploaded on various March the 4ths over the years, but it turns out that I have only ever uploaded one photo on any March the 4th since 2003, and that is this one from last year:
It turns out that the snow last year on this day was as tall as Aidan in places.
I have been moping around, thinking that this is the worst winter ever. I told Aidan yesterday that I was having dangerous thoughts and I might need an intervention if the cold didn't let up. I considered buying a plane ticket and disappearing like those people who go out for cigarettes and never return. I ate everything that I could eat at the extreme ends of the salty and sweet spectrum. I was certain that this might be it. I would spend the rest of my days in a nightgown staring at pink walls in hospital slippers.
When I look at this photo, though, I feel a bit more hopeful. I got through last year's mountain of snow, and I was pretty sure at the time that I wouldn't.
I remember that midnight walk. Before I took the photo, I looked at Aidan standing next to that giant pile of snow, the one I had been cursing earlier for existing, and there was now something beautiful in it. He was pale under streetlights making absurd sexual jokes about a tree, and all the bits of human existence that make life a full and beautiful thing fell into place as tumblers in a lock. The high snow had become a marker, a brief monument of sorts, and I wanted to remember us standing there forever like those pictures of soldiers during World War II. There I was wholly at peace with the business of being alive, knowing that I would die, and so grateful to have this time in this way.
That was this day last year. I was hopeless until I wasn't anymore. I think I can make it through winter now without an intervention or running away. Spring is coming.
Thank you, Flickr.