Days go by. Years. Sometimes memory is a gentle snow. Sometimes memory is a maelstrom.
Holidays tend to bring on these sorts of storms. They rage and swirl behind the candles and dinners and smiles.
Behind our eyes.
They bring depth and understanding, the weight of our pasts anchoring the present, allowing the lights of today
to shine more brightly.
Yes. You were right. I needed winter, so I made some.