A Retraction
Old Man Winter and I have had our ups and downs.
As a kid I loved him. Then I was an anti-winter curmudgeon for 15 years. Then I tried to use him to biohack me into a better person.
Since having kids, though? I’m a straight up hater again.
It’s not even the cold. It’s the logistics.
Every day I say, “Okay, we have half an hour to get out the door,” and my brain immediately turns into a crowded DMV with only one person working.
Which pair of pants did I leave my wallet in? Is this sippy cup clean enough? How is it possible we have 19 left-hand mittens and zero right ones? His hat, my hat, his boots, my boots. Dear God, where the hell are the keys?
Up and down the stairs six times. Each trip, I return with between zero and one of the items I need.
Meanwhile Gus is operating in full feral-chinchilla mode, which means the second I put him down he’s gone. Either climbing up the stairs or, most recently, into the dishwasher.
Half an hour’s gone by. I’m sweating. Gus is screaming externally. I’m screaming internally. The DMV crowd has a lot to say to its lone staff member.
So after we got hit with 18 inches of snow and a subsequent polar vortex, any optional trips outside were vetoed. Instead of walking the dog I was just standing outside the house throwing snowballs while Monte looked at me like I’d betrayed him on a fundamental level.
Lincoln Talk and the Fifty-Dollar Gamble
Then Lincoln Talk happened.
If you live in Lincoln, you know about Lincoln Talk. The town listserv where you receive approximately one email every five minutes, twenty-four hours a day, forever.
Most of it is people arguing about how the town should spend money, reporting coyote sightings, and asking if anyone else heard that noise.
But every so often, buried in there, is an absurdly good deal on something you didn’t know you needed.
I’ve gotten a temperature-controlled mattress pad, a chest freezer, a fire pit, and a natural-gas-powered mosquito trap that I’m totally going to set up and use one day. All free or wildly cheap. Sue thinks I have a problem. I think the price is right.
Someone posted a pair of really nice snowshoes for fifty bucks.
I should mention: I had previously decided snowshoes were dumb.
Years ago I bought a cheap pair online, didn’t read the instructions, didn’t wear snow pants, and within three steps had completely filled my boots with snow.
Conclusion reached: Snowshoes are dumb. I am not dumb. Case closed.
But… what if I was actually the dumb one?
So I picked up the new ones.
This time I wore snow pants.
And… holy shit.
I’m not sinking.
I’m not slipping.
I’m floating.
I’m like an ocean liner gliding through turbulent seas with grace and unsinkable stability. Each step feels like I’m walking in a marshmallow dream, with barely more effort than if there were no snow at all.
It’s still cold, but I don’t care because I’m churning along, warming my body with each fluffy crunch. I’m practically giggling as it dawns on me: I’m a winter man once again.
And winter is beautiful.
A Whole New World Underfoot
The wind has shaped the snow into delicate crests and valleys, punctuated by blades of grass that make me feel like I’m walking through an ancient Chinese scroll.
As I marvel at the poem nature has written in these curves and lines on paper white, the sun is caught in a million crystals and I have to stop walking because it’s too damn pretty.
The softness.
The peace.
This living work of art.
It was here all along. And I almost missed it because I thought snowshoes were stupid.
Not only that, my two best buddy boys get to enjoy it with me.
Monte is bounding through the snow like a cartoon fox with a look of pure doggo delight on his face.
Plus, I realized a bucket sled fit right in the path I was making. So now Gus gets to ride in a blue plastic chariot like a child emperor behind me. His only complaints are when we stop moving so that I can bask in these moments of awe.
I just discovered a whole new world.
I’m no longer trudging or avoiding the winter. I’m floating through it.
I’m considering looking into snowshoe competitions. I want cross-country skis. I got free ice dancing skates on Lincoln Talk today. I’m going to be an ice dancer.
I’m not just okay with winter now.
I am a winter enthusiast.
All thanks to an impulsive decision to get these ridiculous-looking flip-flap things strapped to my feet.
The Path We Make
The best part?
Once I’d made a path, Sue and Mae could join too, no snowshoes required.
We all went on a walk together, each pulling a kid in a sled. As the sunset turned the snow into embers and our babes squealed with delight, it hit me that we hadn’t been together like this in a while.
There was no agenda.
No multitasking.
No rush.
We were just a family, in love, in a happy place.
