Fall into winter

When winter days come, and the sunshine is muffled by clouds, and socks stick to my wool sweaters as I fold laundry, I snuggle down into my life and breath a sigh of relief.

It is as if the hustle and bustle of summer is over. The extra hours of daylight, the extra hours of work in the garden have once more passed into snowy afternoons and evenings of firelight and board games.

Soup will simmer on the stove, my knitting basket will always be within reach, and we'll snuggle deeper into our blankets.

I breath a sigh of relief as I see the clouds coming over the mountains, darkening the day and hastening evening. My hands smell like dryer sheets, Egg sleeps contentedly on my coat thrown onto a dining room chair, and I can see Tim out in the garage, bundled in an old fleece jacket.

My favorite time of year.

And although this year, fall changing into winter brings with it more pain and more healing as we progress along the road of missing Dad and learning to live without his warmth, his smile, his presence in our lives, I can still choose to treasure each day, each leaf that crunches under my feet, each morning I awaken with Egg snuggled in my arms and Tim getting dressed in the cold bedroom.

"Pain is not bad." I've said it a hundred times. And it remains true. If I face my pain, if I allow the thoughts of missing and sadness to fill my eyes with tears, it brings with it healing. If I push it to the side, ignore it, and try to just "get on with it", I will suffer, as if dragging a growing boulder behind me.

So I'll face it, and I'll choose to be encouraged and uplifted as I see Earth turning and revolving through space, shifting her face away from the Sun and once again journeying to the colder side of our year.