My denial of winter was enabled last week when the temperature reached into the 60s. I took my bike out of the garage and aired up the tires. I laid down on the driveway while I waited for my friend Jeff to pick me up. I closed my eyes. No more Christmas lights, no more artificial trees or fake deer in the yard. With the warmth of the sun on my face, I pretended it was late-September, the end of summer still providing its light and warmth. I imagined still-green trees with their summer health. I also imagined April, with its hopes and promises contained in the growing light of mid-spring. The ground finally thawed and welcoming.
Yeah, I’m living in denial of winter. If it’s sunny outside I wear a jacket instead of a coat. I close the blinds and pull the curtains at 5:00pm and refuse to believe the sun has already set. I listen to music about driving with the windows down, about late nights out, and about summer rains.
I think the days I spent with Sarah in the Dominican Republic this past September are easily some of the happiest few days of my adult life. For weeks afterwards I would dream I was back there. Teal water. White beaches. The smells of the lobby, the taste of the fruits and cheeses at the buffet. I mostly would dream about sitting in the blue-tiled pool with Sarah, sipping drinks and talking at the table next to the tall and friendly Dominican bartender. When I’d wake up after these dreams, I’d be so happy. It was like going on vacation again every night. All I had to do was close my eyes and I’d be back there again.
But those dreams faded away a while ago now. Memories are strange. The brain can’t hold on forever to things like that. It’s really too bad. In fact, I’ve heard that each time we access our memories it alters them, too. Because we are always changing, the way we remember changes, too. So the me that goes back to visit those memories of the Dominican is not the same person that experienced them. It’s wild.
This weekend it was windy and cold. I couldn’t get away with merely a jacket. I needed my winter coat. And that makes things harder. Winter just is harder for me these days. It’s busy. Lot’s of expectations. And it’s cold and dark a lot of the time. I end up eating too much. I go out a lot just to keep myself feeling sane.
I often feel sad at Christmas. I had hoped this year might be different, but it isn’t. Why should it be? There’s a genocide happening in the holy lands, and the world is watching in horror. I read through Jeremiah 6 yesterday and felt a shiver run down my spine. Indiscriminate destruction. They are greedy for violence and have no shame. They’ve forgotten how to blush.
Sigh.
Well, in the meantime, I’ve decided to do things that I consider winter self-care.
Here is a list of some of my winter self-care activities:
- Drinking two big glasses of water after waking up, before my morning coffee.
- Folding the clothes that were piled on my bed. Hanging up my various jackets.
- Putting on headphones and listening to some folk-Americana.
- Wearing my corduroys for the third day in a row because they are my comfiest pants and they look better than joggers.
- Reading poetry from Mary Oliver to calm my soul and to remember what’s important.
- Taking a long hot shower. A shower long enough to see beads of water streaming down the walls and on the mirror.
- Eating red curry for lunch as often as I can, at least once a week.
- Flipping through photo books to get inspiration, and then taking photos in response.
- Reading lists of the best books of the year to prep myself for the year to come.
- Praying for children being traumatized by violence and war. Praying for their parents, too.
- Scrolling through Instagram and liking any photo that shows me something interesting or beautiful.
- Drinking an extra cup of coffee in the afternoon.
- Watching good movies as often as I can, at least once a week.
- Writing in my journal each day.
Since I can’t return to the Dominican, in real life or in my dreams, these are the things I’m doing instead.
Stepping Back 