Winter
I am drawn to contrasts. To the desert and the desolate. To the cold, frozen tundra. For even in the desert, brilliant species of cacti thrive. Even in an Icelandic winter, emerald moss sprawls itself on the rugged terrain and grass emerges beneath the snow and ice. Waves crash on the frozen, rocky shores, and the mountains sparkle with dustings of powdered sugar snow against periwinkle skies.
Winter can be harsh, but life emerges despite its harshness. If things were always warm and pleasant and easy, I would never know what it’s like to be challenged. To die and be reborn. To face my utter weaknesses and yet be surprised by my secret strengths.
So I embrace you, winter. I embrace you — understanding that you, my dear familiar winter, may not always give way to spring. But I will try to hold on to the little things. How the crispness of your air reminds me that blood flows through my veins. How you welcome the sun’s warmth, just as summer does. And how you show me over and over again that life not only persists, but thrives, under your brilliantly bright cloak of white.