The air. The pavement. My skin. Yeah, I know it’s not Texas hot or Oklahoma City hot.
Still, I’m miserable.
If only I could remember in the summer how cold it gets in winter.
- The bite of frost on the door handle.
- The intense ritual of wrapping up before going outside. Coat. Hat. Gloves. Scarf. .The whole shebang.
And, oh the betrayal of H2O.
In the summer, it’s a delight
- to float across it’s surface.
- To plunge into it’s tepid depths.
- To splash and play within it’s confines.
In winter, it stings and chills down to the core. It slips from the sky and spreads like glass across the roads. All because the temperature has changed.
It’s hard. This turning of the seasons. We long for what is to come. When it is here too long, we want to go back to the past.
Achieving contentment. Not an easy feat.
It’s a discipline.
A choice we make day after day after day. To cherish each season of life. To find the goodness and beauty of where we are at . To enjoy it thoroughly before it is gone.