We arrived at the cottage past midnight. Some unknown angel had plowed the lane; otherwise, we wouldn’t have been able to make it to the door of the cottage, where a bed sat waiting, sheets icy, and bitter cold. Four inches or so of snow came the week of New Year’s. This melted on top, then froze again, while another layer of snow was added on top. This too, melted and froze again, making an icy, crusted mass that made it difficult to shovel the driveway at midnight.
The weatherman predicts it’s going to get much colder. That stifling temperature that chokes the breath right out of your chest. Sunlight is sparse. This is a bitter time of year. Light is sparse. The cold freezes everything: the water;branches on the trees, gas meters; and our time together. Time. The doors are bolted, the windows locked down to keep out the cold — pushing us tight, close together.
They call it cabin fever. I call it a chance. A chance to go deeper;to build more memories, to search their hearts deeper, to circle them with love, and to just see, if we might just be able to stoke the embers within us and create our own light within ourselves. Because, the good stuff, is always at the bottom.