Perhaps Winter here would be infinitely easier to handle if I weren't feeling so utterly overwhelmed,
So unbelievably tired,
I feel like a hypocrite, or a traitor.
I love the snow;
I love the chill in the air that is more razor bite than sharp nip, the enchantment that is falling snowflakes, the joy of coming in from outdoors with numb fingers and toes, and how the kiss of the cold air turns my nose and ears a jolly colour of pink.
And yet I can't wait for Spring.
I can't wait to see life, and to feel growth in the air, underneath my feet.
Spring break is almost here- just a few days away- and yet the season itself seems a million miles away.
She was almost here last week, it seemed like she would crest the hill and come any moment...
But when I woke up to heavy snowfall and biting winds, it all seemed like something I dreamed during the few hours of sleep I managed to catch.
And so I try to find comfort, meaning, reprieve in the things that I love and miss most;
Things like baking with a friend,
Pots of tea,
Knitting gifts for others,
Mozart, Vivaldi, Debussy, and a good book.
But there's only so much time I can devote to these side-projects,
These diversions of delight,
Before I must plunge back into the world of assignments to be finished, speeches to be given, papers to write, exams to take.
I have to remind myself, often, how much of a blessing it is that I am even here, attending a University, and drawing closer to God.
It still doesn't temper the anxiety with which I wait for the warmth of a new season.
Come soon, Spring: