little love,
have you, too, caught yourself in a shiver after glancing out the window? I won’t ask if it’s the late-autumn chill or a nervousness in what’s to come. hold your hands out for me, I’ll pull them into the warmth of my sweater sleeves. we’re going to make it, I promise you.
it’s habitual, the last week of November, when I shake my fists at midnight eating the sky after 4:30PM. when I sprawl across the carpet to better consider dinner and my plan on staying alive through the dark. it’s not the cold I mind. sprinkle the white sky across my eyelashes and hush the world under a thick snow cover—just please leave the light on.
from here, winter looms like a shadowed fish in the water. its bite might not be as bad as we fear. it might not have any teeth at all. remember the lights twinkling from the storefronts? remember how soothing the evening can feel when taken slow, warm mug in hand? let’s empty a puzzle box across the coffee table, spend an hour dissecting our older, quieter dreams, and where the hell the bottom left corner piece must be hiding. let’s scroll through our contact list and see if we know anyone with a fireplace. we’ll bake a blueberry pie and ask if they have plans later; end the night skipping rain-slicked sidewalks, scarves pulled tight around the heartbeat in our necks.
maybe in winter, it’s easier to grant ourselves happiness wherever we find it because we expected the fields had gone to seed. maybe it’s easier to take a deeper look at our lives when the world speaks in its library voice. I can’t remember the last time I’ve gone ice skating. that’ll change before the streets are bookended by fir trees. I’m on a bad cycle of saving recipes that make me excited to browse the spice aisle and then continue to make the same four dinners. I’ll stop for ingredients tomorrow. what better time to sit with what you want to change, than when the world presents itself as a soft fresh slate? what better time to keep close to what makes you happy, to warm your hands around it like candlelight? we’re going to make it, I promise you. we might even miss it when the grass starts to thaw. I’ll save you a seat by the window.
with love,
schuyler (sky-ler)
winter puzzle fund (venmo): schuylerpeck
Your writing washes over me and I breathe just a little deeper, just enough deeper that the air makes it all the way down to what needs it. Thank you for that.
Absolutely gorgeous, as always! Absolutely loved, "maybe it’s easier to take a deeper look at our lives when the world speaks in its library voice."